Ann Weying - Succession
by dinadan256
Summary: Eddie Brock had tormented Spider-Man from the moment he received the symbiote and became Venom. But, what if things had gone differently and Eddie had not stayed Venom? The consequences are for Anne Weying, his former wife, to bear, whether she knows it or not. What roads lie ahead of her?
1. Prologue

Author's note: This a collaboration between Mercutio19, kiekan88 and me. Ways to contact them can be found on my profile. If you like to ask questions in your reviews, please, leave a way to contact you. I won't write long ANs if it can be helped.

Succession - Prologue

Night had fallen over the isle of Manhattan and it was far from a quiet one. Lightning split the sky, rain poured down in droves and the wind was howling over the rooftops and lashing through the alleys. For once, even the seedy underbelly of the city seemed to shy away from the streets.

Who would've guessed that in these conditions atop the bell-tower of a nondescript church in Harlem two men were locked in a deadly struggle? One filled with glee and self-satisfaction, the other with desperation and guilt and both were hidden from view by storm and darkness. The hulking, black figure moved with savage ease, as if unperturbed by the raging elements surrounding them, while the smaller, athletic man, clad in red and blue, was obviously fighting his larger adversary and his own fatigue.

With speed belaying his stature, the dark giant's fist, easily the size of his adversaries head, surged forward. His opponent jerked to the side and the punch missed his mark. The responding kick didn't. He leaped back to the edge of the tower to avoid additional blows,holding his ribs. Within a moment he had collected himself again.

Both fighters took a moment to examine themselves and each other. The smaller man was wearing a skin-tight body glove including boots, colored red and blue and overlaid with a black, web like pattern. A stylized spider graced his chest, fitting as he had taken the name 'Spider-Man'. His costume was soaking wet and he was panting and shivering lightly.

The other one looked like a monstrous parody of Spider-Man. His upper body was disproportionately wide and muscled, fingers ended in sharp claws and he stood more than a foot taller than his opponent, while his legs ended in boots nearly the same size as Spider-Man's. Even someone distracted would realize that it wasn't a costume that was colored in black, with a large white spider emblem on its chest. Everything about it, from the way it repelled the rain to the twitching muscles, made it clear that it was a leathery kind of skin as only a mutant could have.

But the man was not a mutant. His black skin was due to another organism entirely, something only noticeable when it seemed to move independently of the body. It used to belong to another 'Spider-Man' who met it in quite literally another realm, the enigmatic Beyonder's otherworldly Battleworld. After being told that he was housing an alien, symbiotic organism, the first Spider-Man violently separated himself from it. Hurt, confused and angry it looked for another host and found him in the then-suicidal Eddie Brock. It bonded to him and provided him with the same kind of super powers both Spider-Men had, with a side dish of shapeshifting, for as long as they remained called themselves 'Venom'.

"Give it up, Parker! You are a fly before us. Face your punishment for destroying our lives!" The large brute growled, revealing a wide, fang-filled maw.

"For the last time, I'm not Peter Parker! His funeral was a yearago." There was pain in his voice, strained as it was from this ordeal.

"A likely story. You won't fool us as you have fooled everyone else." His inhuman face distorting into an ugly grin.

Malicious beady eyes were fixed on the opaque cover of Spider-Man's eyes. Muscles tensed and Venom leaped with a ferocious roar back at his opponent. Again, Spider-Man tried to jerk aside, but there was only so much room around the bell and Venom managed to grab his arm. The behemoth swung Spider-Man right into the corner stone next to him and lifted his other humongous arm to finish him off.

"Say 'Good-bye' now, Parker," Venom taunted, unable to resist one final barb.

But that was all the time the hurt hero needed. His legs shot up and directly into Venom's saliva drenchedjaw. The monster stumbled back and couldn't defend itself from two follow-up punches to his kidneys, before being shoved backwards and away from his would-be victim. Spider-Man tried his best to get ready for another attack, because Venom recovered all too quickly. To the surprise of the costumed vigilante, Venom paused and gingerly rubbed his lower jaw. Black tendrils were waving back and forth around it and exposed muscle fibers and tendons along with small patches of human skin. Before long the tendrils covered the patch again and reformed the fearsome maw of Venom.

"So there is still fire in you, Parker. This will make our revenge only sweeter," His smug proclamation ended with a rasping chuckle.

Spider-Man went rigid and barely managed to ground throughhis clenched teeth, "I have no idea what I or Peter ever did to you, Brock, but I'll get you out of that thing."

"'No idea what you did?!' You destroyed our lives! My career is in shambles and my wife left me because of you!" Venom shouted, his viscous spit flying everywhere.

"You lost your job because you printed the ramblings of a serial-confessor and nearly killed the poor man with your article," Spider-Man retorted as he finally understood what this was about.

"NO! If you hadn't exposed the Sin-Eater that wouldn't have happened! It wasn't my fault that my source was lying!" The large brute stated unrepentantly.

"People lie every day for any number of reasons, Brock. Some lie out of embarrassment or desperation, other because of kindness or cruelty. It is a journalist's responsibility to give the last word on what is 'fact' and what is 'fiction'," Spider-Man explained. There was little pity in his heart for blowhards and pretenders.

That last comment made Venom contort his face into a grotesque scowl. He closed the gap between them and swung his fist, but Spider-Man ducked under it, no longer trying to evade. With practiced ease Spider-Man rammed his elbow into Venom's solar plexus. Expecting the behemoth to be short of breath, the young vigilante wasn't prepared for the swift backhand and was swept off his feet. Whirling around in the air he managed to stick to the corner pillar and looked up just in time to jump away from Venom's next swing. It took a chunk of stone with it and left the hulking man open to another counter attack.

Gripping the stone above, Spider-Man once again stomped both of his feet directly into Venom's face. Venom only took a single step back before grabbing the nimble fighter and smashing him into the ground. He tried to hold onto Spider-Man, but a kick from to his wrist made Venom let go. Instead he got angrily ready to smash both his fists into the prone smaller man reacted fast and webbed Venom's hands to the ceiling above his head. This gave him the time to get up, only to see that Venom had already ripped through the webbing and wasadvancing.

Another wide hook from Venom was met with another counter that seemed to have no effect whatsoever. Spider-Man's mind was reeling. He knew that his only advantages were his slightly greater speed and agility, courtesy of Venom's ridiculously oversized body, and Brock's complete lack of fighting skills. As far as Spider-Man understood, Brock should have most if not all of the late Peter Parker's abilities, but he only displayed the most basic skills. The experienced web-crawler couldn't help but think that Venom was moronically overextending nearly every swing and grinning like a madman, regardless of how often he got hit.

Spider-Man's exhaustion caught up to him and he couldn't evade a strike to his head. Blow after blow was raining down on him and with his swimming sight he could barely protect himself. It didn't seem to matter what he tried, Venom recovered faster and appeared inexhaustible. Spider-Man's mind was racing, as he tried to think of what he could do. Ideas of running and setting Venom a trap or of asking the Fantastic Four directly for help went through his head, when his enemy's voice cut through his thought.

"Face it, Parker, you can't beat us. And we grow bored of playing with you. There are others we need to punish. How about that pretty red-head? Her tears were pleasing to us last time," Venom mocked between his jabs and hooks.

It was as if all exhaustion had fallen away from Spider-Man. His strength and speed seemed to flood back into him and his bruises and the hostile weatherwere but a memory. With it came rage. Near endless rage. Steading himself after yet another sloppy swing from Venom, he thrust his right foot sideways into the monsters left kneecap. The crunching sound was satisfying beyond belief to Spider-Man's anger-fueled mind,yet Spider-Man didn't hesitate and smashed his fist with all his might into Venom's temple.

As quickly as the strength came, it faded away, but that didn't help Venom in the slightest. Disoriented and unable to stand on his left leg he nearly tumbled down the tower, only barely managing to grab onto the bell, causing it to move lightly. With his arms he swung back onto the ledge the two had been fighting on. Just as Venom leaned onto a corner stone, the bell rang. It wasn't as loud as it could be, Venom only gave it a comparatively light shove, but the symbiote was taking care of the damage from Spider-Man's blows and wasn't at all prepared for the noise.

Instantly Venom's entire skin started to ripple and for a moment blots of pink, human skin could be seen. Spider-Man saw that as his chance and started to web Venom up. But the bell was stopping and Venom freed himself, though it took him some effort.

Venom's hateful eyes turned to Spider-Man, "We will make you suffer for this. You have no idea how we suffered because of you! My life is in shambles, because of you, Parker! And I'll make sure the same happens to you, dead or not…" Spit was flying everywhere from this declaration.

Venom began to advance slowly, entirely ignoring the blood still flowing from his left knee. Panic was mounting in Spider-Man alongside the rage. Soon Venom would be more or less back in fighting shape, but Spider-Man was only going to get more tired. His gaze turned to the bell. It seemed to have some sort of effect on the symbiote. Diverting Venom's first punch, Spider-Man jumped at the bell and kicked himself off it, hoping that the shove would be enough. And it was. Several times louder than before, the bell rung, loud enough in fact that even the exhausted hero had to cringe.

What was a ripple earlier could now only be described as a black maelstrom. Black tendrils were ripping themselves from Brock's body, leaving it barely reformed with bloody patches and red, irritated skin. Brock's face started to reappear from the jaw up, the only somewhat properly shaped parts. His eyes were bloodshot and blood was running down his nose, when his left claw turned back into a normal hand, muscles cramping from being suddenly reduced in size. The symbiote was whirling around from what seemed to be every inch of skin, trying to get away from the noise. Even then Spider-Man could see that it still did its best to keep Brock alive, struggling to recreate his normal body despite its obvious pain.

"No! You won't get away again, Parker! I won't let you win!" Brock shouted as the symbiote barely clung to his skin, oblivious to its need for rest.

With mad desperation Brock worked through the ringing of the bell and swiped at Spider-Man with his remaining clawed hand. It went wild and Spider-Man used what little strength he had left for a cross directly to Brock's nearly human jaw. The changing man stumbled backwards and had to put all his considerable weight on his damaged leg. It buckled instantly under him and he just managed to grab onto the corner pillar with his claw to stop him from falling.

Then the bell rang again and again and to both Spider-Man's and Eddie Brock's horror the symbiote dissolved from the hand and Brock lost his grip. To Spider-Man this all happened in slow-motion. He could see it coming nearly before it occurred. He was torn between his innate desire to help, to save those who couldn't help themselves and his rage. The fear in Brock's eyes was evident and a not so small part in Spider-Man felt satisfaction in that knowledge.

"You reap what you sow," He whispered absent-mindedly under his breath.

Brock fell.

It was like a spell broke. Spider-Man jerked ahead, unwilling to kill for self-satisfaction. He wasn't God, he had no right to decide who lived and who died. But he knew it was too late well before he heard Brock's body impact upon the ground. It was barely audible, the storm was still raging, but to Spider-Man it was louder than thunder. He made his way down, wincing from all his bruises and shivering because of the rain. His costume was nearly ripped apart and seemed to hold together only because the rain made it stick to Spider-Man's skin.

Eddie Brock's body didn't land on the pavement, but in the church's small back garden. The blood was barely visible;the rain was washing it away already. The impact seemed to have snapped his neck, so it was probably a quick end. Or at least Spider-Man hoped so.

He kneeled down in front of Brock. He should've saved him **.** He should not havegiven in to his own anger. Now a man was dead and once again it was because he couldn't save him.

"Peter, what would you have done? You would have saved him, I know it. I'm not sure I'm fit to wear your uniform," Spider-Man mumbled between sobs and tore off his mask.

He had light blonde hair and hazel eyes and fairly common, if handsome feature. What was not so common was that said features were more than strikingly similar to Peter Parker. Everybody who had known Peter would think that it was either him back from the dead or an unknown look-a-like. It was neither. Ben Reilly was Peter Parker's clone and had taken up the mantle of Spider-Man, after Peter's death, posing as his estranged twin 'Benjamin Parker'.

Ben was crying, his tears mixing up with the rain. He wasn't sanctimonious enough to even pretend that he was grieving for Brock. Brock was someone he only knew _of_ , thanks to the 'Sin-Eater Scandal' at the Daily Globe. No, Ben was crying because he failed to measure up and another person had to pay the price.

So caught up in his self-loathing, he didn't think for a moment about the symbiote, the source of the problem, as far as Ben was concerned. As it was, only the storm and Ben Reilly had witnessed Eddie Brock's death.

And the storm didn't care.


	2. Chapter 1

Ann Weying: Succession

-Chapter 1-

A bright Sunday was dawning over the City That Never Sleeps. Few clouds could be found in the sky, just enough to make the scenery picturesque, without hindering the warm shine of the sun. Birds chirped in open song and nature itself seemed to have shaken the last vestiges of winter. To most people this would be a perfect way to end the week.

Ann Weying was not most people. She didn't mind the weather, of course, but the young lawyer couldn't enjoy it either. It just didn't seem appropriate. Not with her on the way to her ex-husband's grave. She was dressed properly for this occasion, a grey blouse, with a white shirt under it, her black skirt fell below her knees. Mornings were still a bit chilly so she also wore grey tights and her feet were covered by black Mary Janes. She didn't want to attract attention, so she didn't care that her clothing was out of fashion. Paying her respects was not about looking great anyway.

Edward Brock's funeral had taken place a week ago and while Ann had attended it, it had been far too tense to be a proper send-off. A lot of people had been present, which hadn't surprised her. Eddie had once been a very successful journalist in the Daily Globe's employ, though his erstwhile colleague's had very little good to say about him, typical fair weather friends. What had surprised her was the lack of onlookers. The scandal that had ruined Eddie in more ways than one had been a pretty big one and had been felt throughout the ceremony.

Of his family only his father and sister had come, his mother had died giving birth to him. Both had been devastated. Eddie's father had tried to put on a resolute face to be strong for his remaining child. But Ann's job meant she could easily make out the despair and guilt in his eyes, even if she didn't want to know that.

Eddie's sister, Mary, took it even worse. The two never had a good relationship, because the young woman had always resented the death of their mother. Naturally, Ann wasn't close to her sister-in-law either. Having seen her sobbing over Eddie's grave and her open self-loathing, their last conversation had been a heated argument, Ann had to comfort her.

To Ann it had been apparent from their first meeting, that Mary didn't so much hate him, but rather hated her lack of a childhood, having been forced to substitute for her mother, despite having been a child herself. Too much responsibility at too young an age… no, Ann had never been able to resent her sister-in-law.

As she walked down the footway toward the grave, Ann couldn't help but empathize how both her in-laws felt. The Sin-Eater scandal had destroyed her marriage, too. A religious gunman had been giving the police the runaround and was killing 'corrupt' individuals. Eddie had gotten a phone call, the caller claiming to be the Sin-Eater himself. He had asked that his point of view be shown.

If someone were to ask Ann, that had been where it all went wrong. Instead of verifying the source and double checking the facts, Eddie went straight to his publisher. The story had proven a huge success, so much so that Eddie could publish regular updates in the Daily Globe. The police had asked Eddie to disclose the identity of the Sin-Eater, but he refused prompting an investigation by order of the district attorney. And Eddie had kept busy, not resting on laurels; he had been always up and about. He had told Ann, that he was already scooping out his next story and his enthusiasm had pulled her along, despite her better judgement. According to him, the Pulitzer Price was in his reach

When the truth had come out and Eddie had gone from star journalist to persona non grata within a single day. His source turned out to be a fake.

He had been devastated. Despite his rather haphazard treatment of the story, he had not expected any problems. And once the problems had started, they piled up quickly. He had lost his job and was unable to find employment in the same field. The district attorney was still on his back, because he had withheld the identity of the Sin-Eater from the police. Then he had decided to publish the name, taking everybody by surprise, only for the man to turn out to be a serial-confessor. That led to a mob nearly lynching the mentally disturbed man. Spider-Man had saved him in the nick of time.

Spider-Man. That was the only thing Eddie had talked about during their last months together. Eddie believed Spider-Man was the root of all the problems he had been having. In his mind, Spider-Man cost him his job and Spider-Man had ruined his life.

Ann had tried to be supportive and hadn't pointed out Eddie's professional responsibilities. It hadn't been his fault that his source had only been pretending. And she could also empathize with Eddie's desire to publish a big story, get himself out there as one of the greats, like the Daily Bugle's Ben Urich. But he simply hadn't been able to come to terms with the situation and continued obsessing over a costumed vigilante, who was probably just barely aware of Eddie's existence.

But that hadn't stopped her ex-husband. She had tried to get him professional help, but he had refused time and time again. After several months, the then-fresh-out-of-law-school, lawyer just couldn't take it anymore. She had told him that he had to go seek help or she would leave. He had only scornfully complained that now Spider-Man had even destroyed his marriage. That had been answer enough for her.

Now, she wasn't so sure that she had done the right thing. It seemed that in his last hours Eddie had been completely alone. He had either taken his own life by jumping from the bell-tower or had lost balance while up there. Nobody really understood what he had done there in the first place. There were signs of severe vandalism, and the church had to renovate the entire tower, to make sure it was still structurally sound.

In any case, it was determined that he had been on an unknown substance; his muscles were cramped and unnaturally swollen. Maybe these drugs had caused him to jump or to fall? Maybe she could have done something to prevent it?

All of these matters had contributed to the tension last week. If Ann didn't know it was ridiculous she'd said that it could be downright tasted. The horrible weather hadn't helped. It hadn't been stormy like during the night of Eddie's death, or even worse, his suicide; but it still had rained heavily. It certainly felt far more fitting than the sunny morning on this day did.

Ann was so deeply immersed in her own thoughts that she didn't notice someone standing right in front of Eddie's grave already. His New York Yankees jacket had seen better times, as had his brown, ankle-height boots. The blue-jeans weren't nearly as worn and the plain white shirt she could glimpse from the side looked quite nicely on him. The hair was short and blonde, loosely styled upwards.

She was so surprised by his presence that she didn't notice, that she had stood there gaping for half a minute. The visitor, however, had and turned to her. Ann now had a good view of his face. Nothing about it was particularly striking, the jaw had some definition, his hazel eyes were warm, his lips neither hard nor soft. All in all, it would be hard to describe him to another person. Yet, it all fit in well together and he was remarkably handsome in a strangely unremarkable way.

"Ehm, hi there? I take it you are also here to visit Eddie?" said the young man awkwardly, before spluttering and adding, "Oh wait, where are my manners? The name is Benjamin Parker."

Ann blinks a few times, before answering, "Hello, Mr. Parker, I'm Anne Weying, Eddie's former wife."

"Oh, right. I saw you at the funeral. Sorry Ma'am, I didn't mean to intrude," her fellow visitor made to leave.

"Were you a friend of Eddie's?" asked Ann, unsure where her directness came from.

He turned around and stood there for a second, before he answered: "We were only acquainted, I'd say. I don't think Eddie wanted friends at that point, only met him after that… you know."

"Then why come and visit?"

"Well, the funeral hasn't really been what I imagined, so I came today," he explained, his voice carrying a bitter tone. "I don't know how anyone can come to a funeral and spout things like 'it was only a matter of time'. If it has been so obvious, why didn't anyone of them do something about it?"

Ann gave the young man a small smile. She had had the same thoughts, but decided it was useless to dwell upon the callousness of others.

"I wouldn't mind some company," she told him. There was no reason why they couldn't both stay.

And so Ben Parker stayed with her. They didn't talk, they weren't there to talk. Ann had to admit to herself that she wasn't as comfortable with Mr. Parker's presence as she'd pretended to be. He was pleasant and soft-spoken, but Ann was very curious why a self-described 'acquaintance' would bother to visit Eddie's grave.

Since she wasn't going to be nosy about it, she decided to be productive instead. The grave didn't really need cleaning, but she was there and felt the need to do something. So she took care of the odd dead bouquet, collected the litter in a plastic bag and rearranged some of the ornaments. The moment she was done she looked up at Mr. Parker and saw him watching her awkwardly.

"If you want to, Ma'am, I can take the bag to the trash. Got to go in that direction anyway," He offered.

"No that's alright, I have parked my car in that direction, too," Ann declines.

After several more silent minutes the pair set off together. While the young man didn't seem to mind her presence, Ann was growing more and more curious. Mr. Parker, however, seemed nearly oblivious to her presence. Not a comforting feeling, but hardly one the skinny woman was unused to.

Eddie had been the only one to never ignore her, but he was gone now. The end of their marriage was very hard on Ann, but she didn't regret marrying him. He had loved her, even after their divorce and she knew it. But she couldn't say the same, not after those last months. Where once love had been, only pity and guilt remained. Now it was back to being a wallflower for her, ignored by everyone, much like that Parker fellow ignored her.

No, that wasn't right. Everyone has their own priorities, who knows what Ben Parker was thinking at that moment? Ann certainly didn't and judging him for something others did to her was simply unfair. Ann Weying was a fair and honest person, who was trying to make the world fairer and more honest place, one criminal at a time.

Working up the courage she at times displayed when working in the law firm, Ann decided to do something about her gloomy thoughts and turned her head to her companion.

"How did you come to know Eddie, if I may ask, Mr. Parker," Ann finally asked.

"Again, I wouldn't say I knew at all. We met, but back then I didn't realize how miserable he was. And I think I'm a bit young for the whole 'Mister' thing. Please, just call me Ben, Ma'am," he answered.

"Alright, Ben, then you can stop calling me 'Ma'am' and use my first name, Ann," He nodded and Ann continued, "So you only met him after all that unpleasantness with the papers?"

"Yes, he had been very angry then, not himself, you could say. He needed help, but I didn't do anything, dismissing him as another angry guy in Manhattan," explained Ben.

Ann just nodded along, wondering why the young man took it so hard. Surely he didn't believe that it was his personal responsibility to save a stranger?

"That probably didn't explain anything," and he was right about that, "but I felt responsible anyway. It was all there, for everyone to see, but I didn't help him. It's always 'Why didn't somebody help?' Well, I am somebody. Why didn't I help him? I mean, it didn't have to be me, as long as someone had helped and… God, I must sound like some self-obsessed weirdo. Sorry about that, Ann."

He wasn't completely wrong about that, and Ann found that she wasn't nearly as comfortable with him calling her by her given name as she thought. But it was still touching that there were people out there, who genuinely wanted to help. It also was nice to know, that she wasn't the only one feeling awkward when socializing.

"It IS strange, but I appreciate the sentiment. I often think like I could've done more for him, too," Ann said, empathizing with the strange, though nice, Ben.

Just as she wanted to add something, Ben stopped walking.

"Is something wr…" Ann began, but then she noticed two gravestones.

 _Ben Parker_

 _Loving Husband, Devoted Parent_

 _If there is another world, he lives in bliss_

 _If not another, he made the most of this_

 _Peter Parker_

 _He achieved success here because he_

 _Lived well, laughed often and loved much._

 _We'll forever miss you, Daddy!_

That was awkward. She looked away, not trusting herself not to think about who they were if she looked at the dates. Instead she occupied herself by thinking what that said about Ben. Which was probably not all that much better, all things considered. However everything did make more sense now. He didn't come here just to visit Eddie. He visited Eddie, because he was already coming to the cemetery. It also made Ben seem a lot less weird now.

She took a glance back at the graves and saw that they were well-cared for. Fresh bouquets had been planted, no trash was lying around and no weeds were growing wild. As was usual for her and useful in her line of work, she filed that information away and thought about it. Ben had probably stopped here first and took care of everything, meaning that he came here just during sunrise. Ann wondered why he had gotten up that early, and on a Sunday no less. There should have been enough time to sleep a bit longer, especially if he had a car, like Ann herself did.

"I.. well… not to be rude or anything, but you look like you just ate something that didn't agree with you," Ben mentioned, mockery clearly intended. "Maybe you should do something about that, Ann?"

That brought Ann back to the here and now. Her head went beet red, and she only managed to stammer out some incomprehensible gibberish. She hadn't even noticed how deep in thought she had been.

"Just kidding here," A sigh escaped his lips and after a pause he added, "Benjamin Parker was my uncle."

"So your parents named you after him?" Ann stated what she thought was obvious and more importantly save.

"I guess so, never got to ask them. They died when I was young. My twin brother, Peter, and I, we were both raised by my Uncle Ben and Aunt May."

And wasn't that a kick to the gut? The young man next to her had more or less just said that he had lost nearly everyone in his family. No parents, father figure dead and, if she understood everything correctly, even his twin was dead.

"I'm so sorry, Mr… Ben."

Ann placed a hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze, not trusting her voice to find the right words. Ben turned to her and he gave her a tired smile.

"Don't you get all depressed on my account. Nobody can live in the past. We all have to move forward, live with our mistakes and make the best of them. I, for one, try to live up to their examples." Ben said.

She let go of his hand and glanced again to the gravestone. Peter had been dead for about a year now. As she read the epitaph again, one word stuck to her mind.

"Daddy… he was a father," she mumbled without thinking.

"Yep! Little May is a handful, but between her mother, Aunt May and me we are doing a fine job, I think," Ben told her full of pride.

Both started walking towards the exit, as if in silent agreement. Ann couldn't help but feel sympathy for Ben. So much went wrong in his life. And it seemed that he only had what remained of his family to support him. A family that seemed to need every bit of help they could get. And yet… here he was, visiting a stranger, wondering whether he could have helped him. Ann believed she understood him better now. His empathy for the pain of others. He could probably use a break just as much as she could.

His words from earlier came back to her. She was somebody, too, wasn't she?

The rest of the walk was spent in companionable silence. Much better than the awkward stretches from before. Throughout all the way, Ann was thinking on whether she should offer her help. Ben hadn't said that he and his family needed it, but it wouldn't hurt to ask, right? However, she also didn't want to appear nosy and pry into their private life.

Finally, just as her car was in sight, she decided to ask him: "Ben, if you or your niece need help, or if you just need someone to talk to..." her voice trailed off, but she already had her calling card in hand.

He didn't answer immediately and Ann was too embarrassed to look him in the eyes. A feeling of dread entered her. What if he would ignore her entirely? Suddenly, she felt like a girl in High School, scrutinized by everyone, judged for every fault, imagined or real. She hadn't been popular in High School.

A hand touched hers and she felt the card being taken out of it.

"Thank you, Ann. I mean it." There was a deep sense of sincerity in his voice.

She looked up. There was no smile on his face, no bright flashing teeth, but his eyes, they were so different. Like he had been guarded before, but wasn't anymore. Ann smiled and fished the keys to her car out of her pocket.

"You're welcome, Ben. This is where I have to say goodbye." She shook his hand, he still hadn't pulled it back.

"Until next time, Ann." Ben still smiled softly, as he let her hand go and walked away.

Ann felt a certain tranquility bloom inside her. A bit like the feeling when a case was successfully completed, just more personal. If Ben called, she would help him however she could. And maybe she could find some help in him, too.

Suddenly, the sunny weather didn't seem inappropriate at all.

* * *

It was well past noon, when Ann finally made it back to the apartment building she was living in. It was a nice building with even better apartments. She wasn't particularly high up in her law-firm, but skilled enough to be well compensated.

The automatic entrance slid open and she could already see the doorman waving at her, as he always did.

"Hello Ms. Weying. I hope you had a pleasant morning out in the city?" Mr. Dagman asked.

He was an elderly man, eight years away from retirement, but his polite, helpful and not to mention discrete demeanor had made him well-liked and respected. Ann would always go and share a few words with him, until the elevator arrived, much like most residents did.

"It was a lot better than I expected, Mr. Dagman, thank you for asking. How was yours?" Ann replied, already calling the elevator, situated next to Mr. Dagman's desk.

"Nothing much happened, though, I have to say I feel quite foolish now, Ms. I didn't see you leaving and when your friend, Ms. Norran, came visiting I sent her right up. I should at least have made sure that you were at home. The poor woman seemed so incredibly tense. At least I now understand why she was so erratic when she came down, didn't even say goodbye." He explained, taking care of some schedules in the meantime.

Ann's furrowed her forehead. She didn't know anyone by the name of 'Ms. Norran'. Should she ask Mr. Dagman about her visitor? He wouldn't tell a soul, as far as she knew, but he would be concerned over what might well turn out to be nothing important at all. Still, better safe than sorry.

"Are you certain this Ms. Norran came to visit me?" she asked. "The name doesn't ring a bell."

"Why, yes, I made sure to ask who she was planning to visit. I usually don't make a habit of prying into other people's affairs. A lot of people are nervous and stiff, when they come here for the first time, though, so I simply wanted to help her." He stopped doing his paperwork and gave her an apprehensive look. "Should I call the police?"

"No, she might have just been a client trying to meet outside of the office. You wouldn't believe how embarrassed some people are when they need legal counsel," said Ann.

"Are you sure? On a Sunday? It's bad enough that I've got to work today, but nobody would bother you on the day of rest," doubted the elderly doorman.

"You know that people nowadays don't take Sunday as seriously as you do. But it _is_ odd. I'll call you once I'm in my apartment, to let you know that everything is alright," she tried to placate him. "If I don't do that within the hour, just call the police."

"Will do, Ma'am. Have a nice day!" said Mr. Dagman, bright and cheerful again, like flipping a switch.

"And to you, too, Mr. Dagman," said Ann.

The elevator arrived and Ann stepped inside, pressed the button for the 27th floor and, once the door was closed behind her, started chewing on her lip nervously. There may be no need to alert the police, but she would talk with her boss, Mr. Stenfield. Hopefully he would know what this might be about.

It would hardly be the first time someone tried to intimidate them and it all went by the same song and dance: Someone would leave letters or pretend to visit them, creeping everyone out. And nothing would come of this. Nobody would act afterwards or take responsibility to underline the threat. And Ann had enough trouble with her boss, because she had lost more cases recently. She really didn't need something else to attract his ire, as irrational as his sometimes was.

Ann made her way from the elevator to her apartment and inserted the key, a bit apprehensive after hearing that some woman had been there. To her surprise, she door was unlocked. While it could not be opened from the outside, regardless of it being locked or not, that meant that this 'Ms Norran' had forced her way in. Or had Ann simply forgotten to lock the door? It wouldn't be the first time that had happened.

Gulping, she opened the door and looked inside. The short corridor with the coat rack and Ann's shoe bin, small as it was – Ann had always been a practical woman –, was empty and she could see straight into her living room. There was nobody in sight, but that didn't mean anything. Someone could be hiding in the bathroom, her kitchen or even her bedroom.

Something caught her eye. She couldn't make it out properly, but there was what appeared to be a black piece of fabric lying on her couch. On it rested a piece paper. Ann had been thinking of calling the police and let them sort it out. That would be the right decision. But it would also mean making a big scene and she would really like not to attract any attention. She had been happy enough that the journalistic vultures didn't sense a story in Eddie's tragic death. There was no need to encourage them by calling the police.

And yet, Ann took her cellphone out of her purse and dialed 911.

"Just in case," she whispered to herself.

She only needed to push down her thumb and someone professional would take care of this. But she didn't push the button. Instead she entered her apartment, ready to initiate the call at the first sight of trouble.

Curiosity had won out against caution.

Ann entered the living room, quietly kicking off her low heels; mostly for comfort, but she could run a lot faster without them, too, if there actually was some intruder. If someone _was_ here there was no doubt that she had been heard anyway. But there was probably nothing except a perfectly innocent pile of clothes.

"Please let there be nothing", escaped her mouth as she crept into her apartment.

Everything appeared to be where she left it, as far as she could determine. She inched closer to the couch and tried to figure out what had been laid down on it. It looked like a rectangular piece of dull, black synthetics, carefully folded. Sitting on top was an envelope, which read "Ann" in sloppy hand written lettering.

"What the?" she let out, clenching her free hand into a tense fist.

She quickly surveyed the apartment, looking inside the open kitchen and saw nobody there. The door to the bathroom was closed and the underwear, she had lazily discarded in front of it that morning, was undisturbed. A look into the bedroom didn't reveal any hidden assailants either. Ann listened, but there was mostly quiet. Nothing to make out for her, except for the cars on the roads many feet below her.

Seeing nothing alarming, Ann felt herself relax a bit. She felt like she was more or less safe and rested the cellphone down on the couch, next to the black fabric. Taking off her glasses, Ann rubbed her eyes. This had been unnerving. Before this day, Ann had only heard of something like this happening to other people she worked with. Her coworkers had always called the police straight away, though. She couldn't even begin to explain why she hadn't done same.

Her hands went to the envelope. It wasn't sealed. There was a letter inside.

 _Hey Babe,_

 _If you're reading this, it's too late. Something terrible must have happened to me. Cliché, right?_

 _This probably won't make a lick of sense to you, Annie. But there are some things you never knew about me. Believe it or not, I was a costumed crime fighter! Yeah, crazy, right?_

 _I better start explaining, right?_

 _A few months ago, after we split, I happened upon this guy here. This suit is something else. Something special. It was my partner. I'm not sure how this guy works or where it came from, but it offered me something wonderful. It was like I had super powers myself, If you can believe that? It must be controlled by some kind of neural-link or something. I'm not really sure._

 _It was everything I ever wanted. It gave me a new purpose in life. The whole reason I even got into the journalism game is so I could help people. This guy allowed me to do that. It gave me real power. I could finally protect the people I cared about. Not just them, though, all innocent people. People who haven't been tainted and twisted by this cruel city and by people like that blasted Spider-Man._

 _There are a lot of bad people out there, Annie. I couldn't let them harm you. I certainly couldn't let this guy fall into the wrong hands, either._

 _You've always been there when I've needed you, so it's my turn to do the same for you. I've always been able to trust you, Annie. So I'm handing my buddy over to you. Take care of 'em!_

 _I love you, Annie._

 _Eddie_

Ann put down the letter and tried to compose herself. She didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Nobody would expect to find such an obvious, tasteless prank! The outfit was probably filled with itching powder, or something like that. Eddie did leave her a large part of his possessions, in fact she hadn't looked through all the items that had been stored, yet. What remained of Eddie's money had been given to Mary. She was going through some hard times and needed it far more.

Shaking her head, she went to her bedroom and got changed. Once she was done, she called Mr. Dagman and told him that everything was fine. The locks would need changing, but that was a worry for another day. She was already dreading what to tell Mr. Stenfield. But then again, why tell him anything? Right now she needed to check her apartment and find out if anything had been stolen.

A few hours passed, during which Ann was dutifully making an inventory. She couldn't help but wonder, what if the letter wasn't a prank? It was strange, though. The letter sounded just like Eddie. He always had such grand goals. Of course, it could always be some cruel former colleague from the Daily Globe, but that seemed far-fetched.

Had this 'Ms. Norran' been trying to get ahold of one of Eddie's possessions? It wouldn't be the first time an inheritance was seized, so it wasn't like his worries would be unfounded.

Ann thought of Eddie, how he had once told her why he wanted to become a journalist: To make certain the public would know what the truth was. To reveal the deep dark secrets this city had. Eddie was always brave and enthusiastic. He had always been like that and she'd never forget the night when he saved her from a gang. He stopped the would-be muggers all on his own. He had been her hero back then. Wouldn't it be nice if, despite everyone who spat on his name, he rose above them and didn't repay them in kind, becoming a hero instead of a criminal?

Ann let out a sigh. She was still quite tense from the whole ordeal. Despite being a lawyer, she wasn't used to potential threats or intruders at home. She sat down on the couch, looking at the carefully folded black cloth sitting on the cushion next to her. This whole thing was crazy.

She picked up the suit, unfolding it as she did so. It still looked strange, but it felt like a very odd mixture between rubber and silk. She had never felt anything this smooth and pleasant to the touch. It was a full body suit, with integrated gloves and a mask that would conceal the wearer's entire face. Where eyes were supposed to be, it had white spots, in the shape of tears. There was a large white circle in middle of chest, with broad stripes leading away from it, around the upper body to another, smaller white circle on the back. The only reinforced part where the feet, which had proper soles, to provide traction. There was a narrow opening along the back.

All this was starting to turn into a strange dream for Ann. Had she been chosen to continue Eddie's work? Was she truly in danger, like Eddie suggested in the letter? Whatever the case, Ann was holding this supposed miracle suit in her hands, to do with as she pleased, because Eddie trusted her. What should she do?

She stood up and held the suit out in front of her, to get a better look. It looked roughly her size.

"This is ridiculous!" she said allowed to herself, tossing the suit to the couch. With a sigh, she made her way to the kitchen. It was getting late. She began preparing a meal for herself. All the while, though, she kept looking back at the black suit that lay there messily slumped across her couch. She couldn't stop thinking about it. What if it really is everything Eddie described in his letter?

Making her way back to the couch, she picked up the suit again. Curiosity had gotten the better of her. What should she do with the mysterious item? What would anyone do?

A wicked smile stretched across her blushing face.

"Couldn't hurt to at least try it on, right? Probably doesn't even fit."

She may yet live up to her ex-husbands example, she thought, as she looked at the opening in the back of the suit.

* * *

Author's Note: Once again, this a collaboration between Mercutio19, kiekan88 and me. I'd be thankful for reviews and if you have questions, feel free to send me a pm or ask in a review. Just make sure that I have a way to contact you.


	3. Chapter 2

Ann Weying: Succession

-Chapter 2-

Gripping the strange black suit, Ann's eyes locked on the opening in the back. It looked like a doorway to another world. There was still a part of her that was cautioning her, but her mind was made up. Ann Weying was going to put on her ex-husband's 'partner'. She had no idea why he repeatedly spoke as though the suit was a person, but that didn't matter.

She ran her hand across the soft fabric once more. Normally, Ann wouldn't get so excited about putting on an outfit. This was strange. There was something sensual about the costume touching against her skin and she savored every moment of it. The idea of wearing it seemed more and more thrilling to her.

She slipped a hand inside. To her surprise, it felt even better, like this rubbery silk was gliding over her skin. It was hard to imagine that this could be useful in a fight; the unusual texture seemed far too slippery. Pulling her hand out again, Ann inspected the integrated gloves and boots. The gloves appeared no different on first glance, but she couldn't slide over their surface. There must have been a different material used for the palm and fingers, she thought. That meant that she could get a proper grip with them on. The boots consisted of a simple hardened sole with no profile or specific form. Looking at them, Ann's expression switched to a frown. Based on appearance alone, she imagined them to be fairly uncomfortable.

She shrugged and took the suit into her bedroom, resting the cloth on her bed. Like most people she felt more at ease in the privacy there. Not to mention that she couldn't put it on fully clothed and preferred not to leave her clothes lying around, like she had done in the morning. It only took her a few moments to strip down to her underwear. Ann was already reaching for the suit, when she pulled back and unclasped her bra. Memories of school sports reminded her that moving around a lot with a regular bra was not a particularly great idea. She opened her wardrobe and picked a sports-bra out and put it on.

There, now she was ready for the suit.

Her hands seemed to move on their own, as she picked the suit from her bed, its opening in front of her. She gripped the edges and pulled them apart. The interior was pitch-black, though she could swear that it sometimes glistened like a liquid. The way the suit's opening was positioned meant that it was best to put it on feet first. Ann leaned down a bit and lifted her leg, lining it up with the opening of the suit. Shaking with excitement, she pushed it inside.

Her foot slid down the cool hole, lightly stretching the pant leg. Idly, Ann wondered how Eddie could fit inside the suit if she was stretching it already. Once her foot was completely inside she flexed it a bit, to get the fabric settled. She had to correct herself, too. It didn't feel like silk anymore. It was to silk as silk was to coarse linen. It clung to her leg softly, like a lover's caress and she nearly lost her balance, as she hurried her other foot inside. Once both her legs were firmly encased in the strange suit she pulled it up to her hips. Ann was squirming. The feeling the suit provided was amazing and she was a bit disappointed that she didn't feel it around her crotch, courtesy of her underwear. Maybe keeping them on wasn't the best idea.

Nothing to be done about that.

Feeling slightly giddy, she pushed her left hand inside, quickly finding the corresponding sleeve. Ann found herself enjoying this thoroughly, no longer surprised by the sensations the material was causing. Without thinking about it, she stretched the opening and slid her right hand in just the same. Both hands slipped into the integrated gloves easily, as if someone held them open. The gloves clung tightly; tighter than she was expecting, even. Despite that, she could move both her hands and their fingers as freely as before. Even medical gloves were more constricting. Gripping the edge of the suit, she pulled it over her shoulders. Instantly, her upper body was hidden from the view, only her head and a thin strip at the back remained visible.

Once covered up to her neck Ann tried to press out some of the folds and wrinkles. She frowned, when she realized that she couldn't smooth over all of them. The suit was obviously meant for a different body type. It hung loosely around her hips, thighs, shoulders and arms. Clearly it was meant for someone with more muscle tone than skinny Ann Weying. There was also that strange feeling of disconnect around her chest and crotch, where she was still wearing her undergarments. That only deepened her frown. She had decided to not go stark naked in order to avoid feeling odd. The woman hadn't expected the opposite to happen. And now that she was inside it, Ann noticed that the gloves were tailored strangely. The fingers were ending in sharp points, which hung loosely from the tips of her fingers, because she had normal fingers, not claws. And the shoes were every bit as flat and uncomfortable as she first assumed.

All in all, Ann was confused. On the one hand, the suit felt divine on her skin, while on the other hand it was clearly not a great fit. Peering into the nearby mirror, she almost looked comical, the way the suit hung from her thin frame. The sight in the mirror reinforced her doubts about the letter, her reluctance returned full force. It would just be her luck, if some creep had installed hidden cameras and had everything she just did on tape.

Still, Ann wasn't finished yet. She figured that if she had come this far, she might as well complete the task. The integrated mask was still dangling from her neck. She grabbed it with her gloved hands and pulled the small part of the slit at the base of the neck apart. Luckily the material was elastic, whatever it was. With more than a little apprehension, she pulled the mask over her face. It was loose around her neck, but pleasantly hugging her head. The tear shaped patches could be seen through from the inside and she adjusted the mask based on that. It took only a few tugs to line everything up and little more to push her hair under the hood.

A look into the mirror again revealed, that the costume still looked off, despite feeling incredible. As Ann continued to examine herself, she found herself blinking in shock. The fabric itself appeared to shift and move on its own, flowing around her.

"What on Earth?!" Ann thought allowed to herself, shocked by the whole situation.

The first thing she noticed was that the opening on her back was closing up, and not from one end to the other. Instead, the edges appeared to melt together at seemingly random points. In no time at all she was totally encased in the suit, with no way out. The prospect was both frightening and exciting at the same time, and not only because it meant, that the letter was the real deal.

Only moments after she was sealed in, the suit started to tighten. Ann could feel it all over her body, from her feet to her head. She pulled one hand in front of her face and could see how the wrinkles and folds disappear and the strange pointy tips of the glove being pulled over her fingers. Soon, her hand was perfectly smooth and covered in black. The fabric sat tight and the strange endings were gone. And yet it wasn't restricting her finger's flexibility in the least. But before that part was completed her attention was pulled to her feet. The soles of the shoes pushed up and formed themselves to her feet, supporting them far more naturally. At the same time the fabric tightened around her toes and seemed to wiggle between them. Suddenly, the fabric relaxed and smoothed out around the outlines of her feet and legs, making them appear utterly featureless. Ann didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed about that.

This happened all across her whole body: the suit tightened around her hip and rear, slipping slightly between her butt cheeks and accentuating what curves she had. Without any excess material her shoulders seemed broader, her neck more taut and her hips wider. Her ears and face were hidden from view, not even outlines remained. The white patches of the mask were pressed tightly to her face, no longer inhibiting her vision in the least. And her thighs seemed just a touch firmer.

Bringing her attention back to the mirror, Ann froze up. Gone was the skinny and shy wallflower. The woman there seemed slim, not skinny. Her few curves gave her an athletic look, complimented with more defined looking arms and legs. All of that was covered by the utterly flawless, skintight suit. Not a single wrinkle could be found and, as she flexed and moved her limbs, Ann felt no tug from the fabric. It simply fit like a second skin.

In fact, she reminded herself of Spider-Man, when he had worn a similar black costume. The sun-emblem on her chest was obviously different and her tear shaped eyeholes were quite a bit thinner, more predatory. Her suit was probably designed in homage to Spider-Man.

Just as she was enjoying herself, her vision started to spin and distort. Swiftly, Ann used her hands to steady herself against the mirror. She could feel her heart beat quicken with each second, until it was an ever-present pounding inside the woman's head. It was more and more difficult to remain conscious, let alone standing.

And then her vision distorted into something different altogether.

With a start, Ann realized that she was upright. Only she wasn't in her bedroom anymore. She was out on the street, in front of a crushed car. It made no sense to her. An arm clad in black entered her vision and ripped off the car's door. It took Ann a few moments to realize that this must be her arm. She watched as the driver was methodically extracted from the car wreck. Steel was bent and broken like candy bars and the unconscious driver himself was pulled out as softly and easily as one might lift a large pillow.

Again her sight grew blurry.

This time she was surrounded by thugs with guns. They opened fire and screamed abuse at her. Yet, their aim was bad and Ann felt herself easily evade the gunfire. She jumped around, reaching heights well beyond any human. Soon the bellow of the guns ebbed away and she saw that only two tried to go for cover and reload. Most were staring slack-jawed at her, while she stood there with arms folded in front of her broad chest. The thugs suddenly decided that caution is the better part of valor and made a run for it. With a display of the same speed and agility Ann is on them in an instant.

Before she can see what happens next, the vision ends.

Flying. Ann was flying through the air! No, that wasn't right, as just in that moment she landed on the rooftop of a skyscraper. And broke into a run again. Right at the edge of the building, she jumped, further and higher than in the last vision, smoothly sailing over the chasm between the buildings. On and on it went, higher or lower, wind blowing fiercely against her entire body, yet incapable of stopping her. It was like performing the world's most impressive parkour.

One building was coming closer and closer and Ann felt her gaze drawn to it. Something told her that she was headed there. As she got closer, she noticed that she sometimes clung to the wall, before jumping further. Other times she seemed to somehow glide between the buildings. She couldn't move her head to make out how this was done. Finally, she reached the building and climbed, jumped and crawled to its top. For a heartbeat she was treated to the most magnificent view of Manhattan she had ever seen. Her apartment building was clearly visible in the front of the rising sun.

Then it was gone and Ann was back in her bedroom.

Ann was kneeling in front of her mirror, hands pressed against the mirror for leverage, and panting heavily. She tried to say something, but nothing coherent was leaving her mouth. What was that? What had she just seen? Slowly, she calmed herself, slowed her breathing and sat down more comfortably, her back leaning against the mirror.

Everything she had just seen appeared so real. It had been far more vivid than memories; even a movie seemed pale and lifeless by comparison. If the watch in her bedroom didn't tell her otherwise, Ann might have been convinced that she had gone out there and done all these things. Or maybe she might not, because some details _were_ wrong. Her arms had been much too toned and the gloves in those visions had had white patches on the back of their hands. And the figure had possessed a very muscular, broad and, more importantly, flat chest, something that was quite different from Ann's modest, yet clearly existent bosom. The emblem on the chest had been different, too, but she hadn't been able to make it out in the brief moments it had moved into her sight.

So, if she hadn't done these things that left only one person: Eddie. It made sense to Ann. The suit had been his and was clearly not just a Halloween costume. Maybe these visions were memories. And since the suit could shift its shape, it would explain the slight differences of it. But that only answered what they were, not why they were shown. Ann's face contorted in her concentration, not that anyone would have noticed with the mask obscuring most of her facial expressions.

There was Eddie's letter, of course. He had written something about super powers, but had, in typical Eddie-fashion, neglected to mention what these were. Maybe that's what she had seen? Was it her new powers in use?

Ann felt compelled to investigate. But before she could finish her thought, though, she got up and walked over to her bed. The whole time, her body seemed to move on its own, as if carried by her need to understand said abilities. While moving across the room, Ann couldn't help marveling at the comfort of her suit.

Without thinking about it, she reached for the bed. With both hands under the bed, she tried to lift it a little. Ann could move her bed around on her on, if pushed, but the vision depicted Eddie bending a car body without difficulty. And she was right; lifting it was no strain at all. It was like picking up a humongous cardboard box; unwieldy but not heavy.

Putting it down gently, the newly empowered woman thought about the other visions. The second one had shown Eddie dodging gunfire with ease. That means speed and agility, so she picked up her wallet, keys and a small, stuffed toy and tried to juggle them. Ann was by no means a very coordinated person, often tripping or fumbling when nervous. And yet, she was easily able to juggle those three items. Granted, it probably didn't look impressive, but it was simplicity itself to keep up with the items, even without the necessary skill. It was as if she had a rudimentary understanding that was previously not there. Her hands knew roughly where to move seemingly on their own. Ann did have to make some adjustments, but while probably not very graceful that wasn't difficult either.

Again, she put her test objects away. The last vision showed her doing super-human parkour. That wasn't something she could test in her apartment. Then she remembered that she seemed to crawl _up_ the wall of the building she had been headed to. She went over to the wall and, as if it was second nature, placed her right foot and left hand on it and without a thought pulled herself up. It was as easy as walking. The suit allowed her to stick to the wall and the ceiling, naturally, while providing her with the strength necessary for these movements at the same time. It was another obvious homage to Spider-Man.

Now she was anxious to try the running and jumping. Everything had worked out so far and her home had some perfectly placed rooftops nearby.

Grinning under her mask, Ann went to the balcony connected to her bedroom and slid open the door. A wave of air brushed against her. She knew that it was cold. For as thin as the suit was, it seemed to shield Ann from the elements quite well. That was the moment when she noticed that she could breathe unhindered, as if she wasn't wearing a mask. A good thing could get better, it seemed.

She closed the balcony door behind her. There was no way to lock it from the outside, not that it mattered on the 11th floor. It really was a convenient exit. That made Ann wonder whether Spider-Man, who inspired this suit so much, used a similar way to come and go unnoticed from his home.

Shaking off these thoughts, the black-clad woman turned to the door and tried to jump to the balcony above hers. That worked, albeit with her hitting the wall far harder than she had planned. It didn't hurt anything, though, except her pride. After a short break to orient herself, she crawled along the ceiling, to the balcony and up the wall. Scaling the wall was a lot easier than Ann had expected. Soon, she was sticking to the wall opposite the next building and prepared herself to jump across.

That was easier said than done. Ann knew that she could make the jump from experience, but that knowledge didn't get rid of the queasy feeling in her stomach. Still, she got so far and wasn't about to quit. Gathering her courage, she flung herself across the gap. Once again with a bit too much force, smacking into the wall. But this time she was filled with excitement. The feeling of sailing from one point to the other was unlike anything she had ever experienced.

Ann crawled up the entire building, already looking forward to jump from this rooftop to the next. The longer she climbed up, the less it felt like _crawling_ was the right word for what she did. It was usually used to describe ungainly moving across the ground on four limbs. What she did came far too natural to be compared to that. It was as if she had done it for years, another feature of her incredible suit, no doubt. Whatever strange technology it was made of, it was still connecting to her or getting used to her. Eddie had mentioned something about a neural link, after all.

Once she was on the rooftop proper and could see the actual gulf, Ann was getting goosebumps just by looking at it. Again, something told her that it would be a walk in the park, but just as before, that did not calm the flutter in her stomach. Unlike last time, though, that flutter egged her on. She walked to the opposite side and took a running start. As the edge got closer, Ann could hear her heart pumping madly, could see the opposite roof with crystal clarity and could feel the gravel on the ground yield under her every step. The last step was there and this time everything slowed down. The muscles on her leg constricted and before she knew it, she was flung across the gap, with a force she hadn't thought possible.

Ann Weying was flying.

As she struck the ground again, she kept going. She was filled to the brim with adrenalin and just had to keep running. So she did. Across the roof and onto the next, skipping over odd ventilation ducts and dodging other constructs. Each jump, each perfectly aimed motion was flowing into the next and Ann was riding a high she had never experienced before.

With a thrill she recognized the building from her vision. It was The Daily Bugle's office building. She altered her path slightly, deciding that she _had_ to stand on top of it. She jumped once again, belatedly realizing that she was crossing the main street. There was no way for her make it to the other side! As she was falling she struck her arm frantically towards the far away edge and suddenly something shot out of the back of her hand and clung one building. It was almost as if the suit extended a piece of itself. Her fall was stopped and she was yanked across the gap, hanging onto whatever it was that came out of the suit.

It took a few moments for her to realize that she was in the midst of swinging, just in time to reach the apex of it. The thing connecting her to the skyscraper retracted back into her hand and she flung her other arm out nearly on instinct, hoping that the same thing would come out again.

It did.

She was swinging between the buildings and soon wasn't afraid in the least. This was even better than before and she got closer to her destination rapidly. With one last swing she flung herself onto the walls of the Bugle building and landed far more gracefully than before. Quickly she made for the top, her joyride at a temporary end.

Once there, she sat down at the edge, finally ready to calm herself a bit.

That was when Ann remembered that she was sitting on top of the very building she had seen in a vision earlier. She got up and looked in the direction of her home. It was the same scene, only that sun wasn't rising behind her apartment. Instead it was setting behind Ann. She giggled at the symbolism. Her day out was far from over. Why would it be? Her vision had just turned into reality.

* * *

Ann had been running and swinging aimlessly through Manhattan. She wasn't sure how long she had been out, but guessed that it was still not midnight. With all the excitement, the time had just slipped from her mind entirely. She was much too busy enjoying herself and her new suit. It wasn't until she had stopped to take a breath, that Ann realized she was well within boundaries of Hell's Kitchen.

Her first clue was the increasingly shabby look of her surroundings. The second was the lowered height of the buildings. She rarely got to swing around and started to move with more caution. Despite her newly acquired powers, she wasn't looking to get into a fight. New York seemed to have an ever growing population of super powered criminals. If Ann were to run into one, Hell's Kitchen would certainly be the place. Miss Weying wasn't one for fighting. She wasn't looking to get into trouble.

"Please, just leave me alone!" a woman begged loudly, ripping Ann out of her thoughts.

A rougher male voice came in response, "We'll leave you alone, as soon as you tell us where Marty is." The voice following with a sinister chuckle. "Of course, we are generous and you can just pay his debt, if you feel like it."

Ann ducked into the shadows for cover. Checking what was going on. She saw a group of three thugs cornering a middle aged woman. Their leader, a tall and scrawny guy with shoulder-length, black hair, was holding her arms. Ann could see a discarded can of mace lying next to her. The man was flanked by two additional ruffians; both broader and shorter. Each had a suitcase in hand and was apparently tasked with keeping an eye out.

Ann couldn't help but scoff. Police rarely bothered with Hell's kitchen at night and the few that did were often hindered by corrupt colleagues. Ann wondered if the men below were keeping an eye out for Daredevil, the local neighborhood hero. Or maybe one of the other masked vigilantes known to frequent Hell's Kitchen. The infamous "Heroes for Hire" were known to take up shop in this area as well. Any of those options would make a lot more sense, than expecting the police.

Ann's black suit helped hide her in the shadows. It was easy to keep out of sight from the crooks below. Remaining out of the street-light, she maneuvered herself to get a better view. Now able to see the lead crook's face, she was surprised to see that it was a face she recognized. Mark Arder, a small-time debt collector, somebody who should have been sitting in jail. His companions weren't likely to be any kinder.

Ann had personally worked on a case Arder was involved in, representing one of his brutally beaten victims. The police had 'accidentally' ignored standard procedures and the majority of the evidence had been deemed inadmissible. Parts of the evidence had simply been labeled as 'lost'.

"Marty? I don't know a Marty!" the tormented woman below pleaded with her aggressor.

"Like hell you don't know him! Frank here said that he saw you with Marty Scorns last weekend, so you better start talking!" Arder shouted and slapped the poor woman.

Arder had a reputation for being hot tempered. He always had a streak of violence following him. He was known around town for being very efficient at debt collection. But the nature of Hell's kitchen made it hard for anybody to find reliable witnesses. The local crime bosses don't even need much effort to keep their henchmen out of prison. Of all the criminals Ann had seen in her job these were the most frustrating. Times like these made Ann happy that she didn't work as a district attorney.

Mr. Arder and his two cronies violently dragged their victim into an alley. It was becoming clearer by the second that if the woman knew who this "Marty Scorns" is, she wouldn't be offering any information.

Ann was getting restless and nervous. Her anxiety worsened when she saw that the two shorter ones unholstered firearms. The more she watched it the more she wanted to do something. She was unsure exactly what to do, though. Normally she would call the police, but that would take too long. Besides, nothing about her was 'normal' at that point, was there? The guns, however, gave her pause. Eddie may have been able to dodge bullets, but he had had a lot more experience than Ann's three or four hours.

One of Arder's men grew restless. "Jus lemme 'ave some minutes with 'er. She'll talk real quick!"

Ann wasn't willing to see where this would lead. Something snapped inside her and she dropped from the wall she had been clinging to. She landed softly behind the three men, but the gasp of the woman gave her presence away immediately.

Spinning around, one of the burly men shouted, "Shit! It's Spider-Man!"

"Shut up, Davery!" Arder, ordered. "This isn't Spider-Man! 'cause Spider-Man's a dude. Does this look like a dude to you? Of course, not!" He said, scoffing at the notion. Bringing his attention back to Ann, he looked her up and down, apparently sizing her up. "So, missy, you best crawl back where you came from or we'll have to do things, you'll regret, Lady Spider," Arder said mockingly.

Ordinarily, if Ann Weying had been confronted by a known criminal, she would be petrified by fear. She felt a wash of overwhelming confidence come over her, though. She wondered if the suit's neural link was reacting to her emotions.

Ann tried to appear nonchalant and folded her arms in front of her. She couldn't quite explain why, but her instinct told her she was doing the right thing; urging her to go further, even. To use her new powers to help others, just like Eddie had done.

"How about you losers get lost and nobody needs to wake up in a hospital?" Ann said without thinking. The words surprised even her.

"Look here, missy. If we got paid every time some loony in his Halloween outfit tells us something, we wouldn't need to get up in the morning no more. Props for the style, though," Arder said, his jaw contorting into a sarcastic grin. "Now, beat it. Before this has to get ugly." Arder said, pulling out a well-used balisong.

Ann shifted her feet and thought about how to handle them, when Arder continued.

"No? Well, I'm alright with that. This is the part I like most." Arder cut back with, following with a deep chuckle. "Waste her."

Instantly, the two men on her flanks began spraying bullets. As though it was instinct, Ann launched herself backwards, bounding up the wall and propelling herself off again. The costumed woman aimed herself like a missile and tried to hit the guy on Arder's left. She heard a few shots impact on the wall behind her before she impacted on her target, ramming him into a dumpster. Weying heard a destructive crunch and saw that she hit his outstretched arm, breaking it like a twig.

She untangled herself and flipped backwards, hearing Arder swear. She took a moment to see what the other men were doing and saw that Arder tried to pull the woman in front of him. Ann had no intention of allowing him to take a hostage.

Feeling her muscles contract, Ann launched herself from the ground, toward Arder. His other helper was backing away and attempting to take better aim. That, together with the woman's struggles, gave her the opportunity to reach Arder. He was nowhere near fast enough to use his knife against Ann. That didn't stop him from trying. Ann effortlessly latched on to Arder's wrist mid-swing, like an adult would restrain a child throwing a tantrum.

A gasp told her that her grip was too tight, but she didn't loosen it, not even after he dropped his weapon. More conscious of her strength, she hit him with a light jab, but still managed to crack his ribs.

Weying heard a shot from behind, but no impact. Internally she braced herself for the pain that was sure to follow. Only, there was no intense pain. She felt _something_ on her back and dropped Arder like a sack of potatoes. Landing on his hurt arm didn't help as he croaked in pain. She brushed his head with her foot and it snapped back, this time without breaking anything.

Her attention snapped to the last thug. He looked terrified and his hands were shaking badly. He squeezed the trigger and his gun rocked back. Ann had seen it coming a mile away and simply side stepped the badly aimed shot. Menacingly, she moved over to him. The burly goon dropped his gun and tried to make a run for it.

That was futile.

Ann made a few quick steps and jumped over his head, turning in the air. Acrobatics were something she had done a lot these last few hours. She grabbed his collar forcefully pulling him close, so the man's head was level with her own.

"That hurt," she growled.

To her surprise she heard something patter on the ground. She looked down and saw that the tough, armed criminal had soiled himself. It was hard not to laugh at him, so she gave up trying. Even to her own ears the laugh sounded low and cruel. The sound and especially the effect it had on her prey thrilled her. This scumbag lived by scaring and bullying his way through others. And here she was, Ann Weying, the mousy wallflower, causing him to weep like his victim did just minutes ago.

"Not so tough now, are you?" she asked, her face just inches away from his, grinning under the mask.

The man was drenched in sweat, clearly terrified. Ann decided to stop torturing him. She threw him into a wall and forcing a scream of pain from him. She could see he was conscious, but didn't move.

Her focus was broken when the sound of sirens came echoing down the street. Ann was surprised. She was sure that nobody would call the police. She walked over to a groaning Arder and looked down at him; a typical bully, just like the other two. He was only tough when the victim couldn't fight back. She looked to the still scared woman. She walked over and kneeled in front of her.

"Are you hurt? Do you need to go to the hospital?" Her voice was still lower than usual, but no longer as predatory. The woman shook her head.

"Do me a favor, then, and don't tell the police about me. Tell them it was Spider-Man or Daredevil or something, okay?" The woman nodded and started the undoubtedly long process of calming down.

Ann turned to leave, but stopped again once she reached Arder.

"You were right, that was enjoyable." She mocked, her voice again cold and cruel.

She could swear her mask distorted a bit when she grinned under it, but that was probably just her imagination. It barely moved when she talked, breathed or laughed, why would it do so when she grinned? It made no sense, thus Ann dropped the matter and rushed up the wall. She still wanted to make sure that the police would do their job properly.

Using the rooftop edge for cover, she waited for the cops to arrive. Two cars came into her view and stopped at the alley, tipped off by the body of the soiled thug lying at its entrance. Four officers got out and Ann sighed in relieve.

She may not know every officer, but the blonde Jean DeWolff and her peculiar style of thirties clothing was well known across the five boroughs. Detective DeWolff was also a famously skilled and upright policewoman, so the criminals were in competent hands. That reminded Ann of the suitcases the two men were holding. Hopefully this would help in making them stay behind bars.

DeWolff was going through all procedures by the numbers and swiftly the three men were escorted to the second car in handcuffs. She also took the suitcases personally, likely expecting to find something important there. The victim was interviewed and when that seemed to yield little useful information she was led to the other car. Either she would go to the department, too, and give her statement after she calmed down or DeWolff was offering her a ride home. Either way it was fine with Ann.

The excitement of the night was finally taking its toll on Miss Weying. She decided to make her way home. This day had turned from depressing into unforgettable, but Ann needed to sleep a bit. Getting her bearings, she thought about the quickest route home and broke into a run.

* * *

Author's Note: This a collaboration between Mercutio19, kiekan88 and me. I'd be thankful for reviews and if you have questions, feel free to send me a pm or ask in a review. Just make sure that I have a way to contact you.


	4. Chapter 3

Ann Weying: Succession

-Chapter 3-

The trip back to Ann's apartment was as much of an adrenalin rush as her tour through Manhattan. She kept the swinging down low. Staying below the rooftops was a lot more innocuous. She had had enough violence for one evening. Though, it had been very satisfying to give those three degenerates a taste of their own medicine. It also filled the often insecure woman with a sense of pride she had unknowingly missed for some time.

Her apartment quickly came into view and Ann started to slow down a bit, savoring the last stretch. When she left she had been nervous about jumping from one wall to another. Now she was swinging between skyscrapers and performing summersaults across alleys. Still, she could feel that there was room to grow. For all the help and direction the suit was providing, it couldn't replace actual experience. Already she was a lot more secure in her movements than earlier that evening.

Soon Ann was on the roof of her apartment building and climbing down the wall. That was another part Ann was still fumbling at. To any potential observers she wouldn't appear to be anything less than graceful in her descent, but she noticed her hands and feet were sometimes searching for holds when she didn't need any. It was hard to simply discard everything she had once considered important about climbing. When Ann arrived at her balcony, she decided that next time she would try to climb down hands first. While not normal, it felt weird doing it the regular way now.

The door inside was of course still unlocked and Ann softly pushed it open. Just as she entered her bedroom, her sight swam and lost focus. One moment she was inside her apartment, the next it seemed like she was crawling through a lawn during a furious storm at night. Before Ann could get her bearings straight, she could see herself somewhere else. She was at the wheel of a car, driving somewhere and listening to the news. Again everything shifted and Ann was walking away from a desk inside a familiar lobby towards an elevator. Her arm was raised and she could make out a watch showing that it was late morning.

Ann was back inside her apartment. She wasn't as disoriented as last times she had seen these visions or memories, but then the entire experience was also much shorter this time. She wasn't sure what she had just witnessed, but it seemed all rather trivial to her. The way these visions came without warning and would leave her dazed was disconcerting. For some strange reason she felt that it would be alright. She'd worry about that when it happened. For now she'd just have to be a bit less carefree the next time she'd go out for a little joyride. And there would be a next time, hopefully right after work on the next day.

Ann was now puzzled as to how to get out of her suit. She switched on the light, not really necessary since the suit seemed to improve her sight. But maybe the mechanism to open it was cleverly hidden. Neither light nor mirror helped her find some seam or opening, however. The suit covered her head to toe, just like she first had concluded. When putting on the suit, taking it off hadn't even crossed her mind. She had been swept away by the excitement of the moment.

Just as she was getting worked up about her situation, the fabric started to flow again. The first thing Ann noticed was that the hood receded and left her entire head free. The same happened to the gloves and boots. They just rolled up into nothing, exposing her arms and bare legs. This continued until there was only a broad band of the fabric around her waist, above her panties and below her sports bra. It settled briefly, changed into a deep blue and stretched over her skin again. This time it slid under her remaining clothing. Ann purred at the downright seductive touch of the fabric, enjoying how it covered her crotch and chest.

That lasted only for a few seconds before she took a look at the mirror again. The costume looked like a navy blue, one-piece swimsuit and Ann was wondering why it had squirmed under her unmentionables. Well, no reason to look a gift horse in the mouth. The suit was still every bit as comfortable as before and she now didn't have that strange feeling of disconnect her underclothes had caused.

Ann quickly stripped her undergarments off and pulled at the swimsuit. It stretched readily and would probably be easy to take off now. The suit continued to marvel Ann. She was having trouble wrapping her head around it. The woman had never seen a garment shift shape like that. It almost seemed to react to her frustration. She wondered if the neural link that Eddie mentioned in his letter allowed it to react to her thoughts. If that were the case, Ann imagined that, with time, it would probably work even faster! She struck a few quick poses in front of the mirror, modeling the suit for herself. For the first time in months she felt at total ease with herself.

Alas, all good things must come to an end and Ann realized that she really needed to sleep. She reluctantly peeled off the suit and slipped into her shirt for the night. It felt a bit odd to be completely out of the suit; Ann would even say that she missed it already. Something about it made her feel powerful, in control of her own life. There was nothing to be done, she couldn't walk through her life without taking it off, as tempting as the idea seemed at the moment. She laid the swimsuit on a stool next to her bed.

A pain on her back drew Ann's attention. She walked back to her mirror and pulled the edge of her shirt around her neck down. An angry bruise was glaring at her, right where the bullet from one of the thugs hit her. It seemed like the suit was able to protect her from both harm and pain, but not both in equal measure. It was still very impressive, though, that such a thin suit managed to stop the bullet at all and suppress the pain. And while the bruise was a deep purple, it was also on the small side of things. Ann nodded to herself, agreeing that she'd have to work on dodging more. Not that she was planning on getting shot at a lot.

Tired of an incredible and exciting day, Ann went to bed. She'd thought her day turned out nicely when she had met Ben Parker at the cemetery, but Eddie's suit had made it unforgettable. Her eyes drifted back to it and she felt gratitude well up inside her. She started to get an inkling why Eddie had referred to the suit as his 'partner' in his letter. It had been something personal to him and now it was something personal to her as well. As her mind drifted away, her lips pronounced a silent 'Thank you'.

Monday morning saw a thoroughly refreshed and energetic Ms. Weying enter the offices of Stenfield & Limziki, the law firm she had been working for since graduation. She had felt surprisingly well rested when she had gotten up for the day. Throughout her morning routine she had been tempted to put the costume back on, but resisted. That would have to wait for the evening. Besides she had a job to do, too.

Ann entered her office. She had her own, albeit a small one. Mr. Limziki was nothing if not fair and Ms. Weying's work ethic was well established throughout the company. The woman was known for being very productive and getting results.Or at least, that's the way things had been. Her recent string of lost casesmight change that in the not so distant future.

Representing victims of organized crime and the ever more numerous super powered criminals had been easier when Ann had started. Where once only big time figures had well-prepared and skilled lawyers, now it was hard to get to anyone beyond hired muscles. This was especially true when the criminal was apprehended by a vigilante instead of the police. And that wasn't even going into the ongoing corruption amongst law enforcement, or how Eddie's sudden death still affected her **.** A stack of documents on her desk reminded her of that unpleasant reality and her good mood was dampened. Still, this was her job and she prided herself on doing it well.

The morning hours went by, as Ann was working through the additional papers. It was busy mostly work and not usually part of her workload. Doing the job of the often overworked clerks was Mr. Stenfield's 'subtle' way of telling his employees 'If you can't do your job than we can find an easier one for you'. Pettiness had always been one of his hallmarks. She'd just put up with it and get back on track.

Ann's door shot open and in stepped a smartly dressed brunette by the name of Jessica Reese. Ms. Reese had been a good friend of Ann's ever since she started working at Stenfield & Limziki. Jessica was working as a basic consultant of sorts.

"Good Morning, Ann!"

"Morning Jessica," Ann responded a bit dryly, as she looked up from the stack of papers covering her desk. "Do you need some help?" Ann often answered more complicated queries for the consultants.

"What, can't I just come and visit you?" Ann's friend shot back while taking a seat on the desk.

"Well, yes, but you usually come earlier for that."

"This time I'm late, deal with it." Jessica had always been more playful than Ann. "Anyway, how was your weekend? The way you acted on Friday left me worried. I don't want to be nosy or anything…"

"It didn't start great, I can tell you that much. But I'm not complaining. I was really dreading Sunday, but it turned out great," Ann explained. Jessica's concern was touching and Ann really appreciated it.

"Oh? You've been really in the dumps lately. I had an intervention planned and everything! And now it's all pointless." Jessica said almost pouting.

"So sorry that your efforts are now in vain," remarked Ann, retaining the dry tone from before.

"Don't worry. You can repay me by telling me what happened."

"Not much to tell, honestly. I met someone and talking to him really helped me put things into perspective. I also made a really surprising find." Ann said, before she could stop herself. She really didn't want to go into the details.

The notion clearly piqued Jessica's interest. "That sounds interesting. What kind of find? And I hope you plan to tell me a bit more about that guy."

"The kind you find boring, Jess. And please remember the last time I said something like that and you insisted on me explaining it. You were bored to tears, when I told you that I found the perfect addition to my uncle's beer mug collection."

Jessica winced at the memory. Just because Ann was interested in something, didn't mean that it was actually interesting, and Jessica may have voiced her complaints a bit too loudly last time. Ann smirked victoriously, though not for the reason her friend thought. It was probably better not to talk about the suit for now and luck seemed to be with her today.

Jessica's voice brought Ann back to the matter at hand. "That still leaves an unnamed man."

"That it does, but first I want to know what kind of intervention you planned." Ann was really having fun putting Jessica on the rack.

"You can't do that! Bugging people is _my_ thing!" Jessica exclaimed. After a few seconds of silence, she pouted and relented. "Oh fine, but I'll get you for this! Mark my words, Ann Weying!"

"Are you done with your theatrics?" Ann asked, pretending to look over a document.

"You know, I think I like moody and skittish Ann more than smartass Ann," the brunette said with a smile. "Well, I kind of waited until I had good news to tell. If that wouldn't happen, I'd kidnap you and drag you off to a nice café for lunch."

"We can still do lunch," Ann responded with an innocent smile.

"Figures that this would be the one time I won't have to drag you from your office kicking and screaming," Jessica continued dejectedly.

"The good news?"

Jessica's face broke into a grin, "You remember Mark Arder? The brutal Maggia debt collector?" She waited until Ann nodded and continued. "So there I was, getting some copies for what's-his-name, and I overheard someone talking about yesterday's more interesting arrests. And wouldn't you know it, there was his name. Turns out Daredevil caught him and two other guys assaulting a woman. He gave them a beating and disappeared right before the police arrived."

Ann was relieved that the woman she saved had said that it was Daredevil. If someone was able to kill Eddie, while he presumably used the suit, then secrecy was the best protection. A knowing smile spread itself across Ann's face, though Jessica interpreted it differently. There was a rising tension between costumed crime fighters and police, and Ann wasn't sure where Jessica stood.

"I knew you would love it! And it gets better, too!" Jessica gushed.

"Better?"

"Yep! You know since there are no witnesses and the woman has no physical marks of the assault, it would be easy to get them off, AGAIN."

Here is where hopefully the suitcases come in. The idea that these men might have gone free, if not for an unrelated coincidence was revolting. But now that Ann thought about, there weren't many criminals put behind bars by Daredevil. Spider-Man was another story. He tended to stop crimes in broad daylight and kept more of an eye on the super-criminals than on mobsters. Or at least it appeared that way to her. However, the thought, that just stopping a crime was not nearly enough, made her frown.

"Don't look so gloom, Ann, I said it gets better, not worse," Jessica said cheerfully. "They had some very incriminating papers with them or at least that's the gossip. Whatever it was must've been something big, 'cause they are being left to hang. Or so it seems, anyway."

"No less than Arder deserves. You remember the Taylors, right? It's still making me sick to think about that, but he'll finally be put behind bars." Usually Ann would have been jubilant, but she knew very well that Arder had been arrested. The circumstances, that allowed him to attack someone yesterday, left a bitter taste behind. At least the feeling of success allowed her to get a smile back on her face.

"Justice catches up with all of them. Or at least most of them." Jessica added.

There was a pleasant gap in their conversation, as Ann basked in her momentary triumph. It had become so hard to win cases against career criminals and here she had won in the span of a few minutes. True, it hadn't been in a court. Sometimes the results were what really mattered, not the process. Maybe she should get back to work or something work-related. Jessica's job as consultant meant that she was often among the first to hear about new jobs, Ann might as well ask her.

"Anything else interesting going on?" she asked.

"No fair, Ann! You have to tell me about that guy you met." Jessica pouted.

Ann had hoped that she wouldn't have to talk about that, but Jessica had a very reliable memory. "There isn't much to tell, Jess. He was nice and we just talked for a few minutes. I really need to get to work, though. You know that Mr. Stenfield is less than happy with me."

"He is 'less than happy' with everyone, except for those who won a case within the last five minutes. I'm so thankful that he is thinking about retiring. Mr. Limziki can get a better partner than the old grouch."

Ann agreed, but wasn't going to voice it. Instead she said, "That doesn't mean I can just ignore him. I like my job here."

"And it's not about to be in danger, Ann. In fact, Dr. Streiser is probably going to face a big, fat lawsuit soon, so Stenfield will probably want you on it, since the good doctor has always been very satisfied with you in particular."

Ann couldn't help but feel mulish that so few valued her hard work. True, she had a bad spell currently, but that hardly negated her earlier work or rather it shouldn't **.** Nothing to be done about that.

Dr. Max Streiser had been a client of Ann's firm for years, longer than she worked there. He usually needed help with patents and contracts, nothing she would call a 'big, fat lawsuit'. The easygoing man simply didn't have it in him to make enemies.

"What kind of person would actually sue someone like him?" Ann asked.

"You haven't heard? Silly me, of course you haven't heard! You had more important things to do lately." Jessica chided herself and continued. "The short version is, he was a core prosecution witness involving an extortion racket. Wilson Fisk brought forth massive evidence to the contrary and the case was quickly closed. But the guy in the center of it all, Italian or something, don't remember his name, is now suing Streiser and demanding compensation. He claims that Streiser slandered him and made the entire case possible, which is sort of true, but come on."

"That's… I'd like to say that this shouldn't be possible, but we're working in the wrong business to believe that." Ann said, her good mood taking a serious hit.

Another criminal had likely gotten away and it was the lawful citizen who now faced a judge. Ann had long ago lost count how many of these gangsters she had seen. Her lone solace was found in knowing that the cases she worked on were usually won. That didn't necessarily mean jail time, but at least it meant that her clients got some measure of justice. It seemed like the police was wholly unable to protect the citizens. Even Arder would have likely gone free, if not for those suitcases.

"Sorry, Ann, I didn't want to rain on your parade." Jessica said, as she noticed her friend's frown.

"Don't be, Jess. It's not your fault and you can't protect me from the real world. I'm always glad when you come by."

"Well, maybe I can't protect you, but I can still help you, right? You know where to find me when you need anything."

Ann smiled and nodded, which was Jessica's cue to get back to her own work. Ann's friend was a relative of Mr. Limziki and as such was safe from Mr. Stenfield's moods. And instead of using it to slack off, Jessica worked hard to keep everyone motivated, often on top of her personal workload. Though, she seemed to have a special bond with Ann, something the usually shy and introverted woman was very thankful for. Who said Nepotism is something bad? Well, whoever had said that was probably still right, even if Jessica had proven herself an exception.

Ann's own work was still waiting for her, so she went right back to it. It didn't take long at all to finish the additional load. With that out of the way, she could finally start on her regular detuies. Making inquiries, checking claims and preparing defenses was far more interesting than making sure that correct forms had been filled or that payments had been done on time. Soon she was lost in her work and didn't even notice that she received a message on her mobile. Midday was approaching and she wasn't in any hurry to take her lunch break.

Every now and then her mind drifted back to Eddie's suit… no, to _her_ suit. She was really looking forward to donning it after work and taking it for another spin. She thought about trying different climbing techniques or finding out just how strong the suit really made her. Or maybe she could work on her swinging; it felt sluggish, now that she thought about it. And the bruise on her back reminded her each time she leant back how lucky she had gotten.

Well after most people would have taken their lunch break, Jessica whirled into the room.

"Come on! I thought we were having lunch today, but you just can't help yourself, can you?" She complained.

"Sorry, Jess, I was in a world of my own." Ann answered and gathered her belongings.

As she did so, she noticed the message on her phone. It read:

 _Hi Ann!_

 _Are you free tomorrow for lunch? It's no emergency or anything, but you'd really help me out!_

 _Cheers_

 _Ben Parker_

"Hurry up, Ann. You still haven't told me about that mystery man and don't think I'll forget that anytime soon!" declared her friend.

"Can the disclosure of my big secret wait a day or two?"

"We need to work on your sarcasm, dear. And why would that matter?"

Ann showed her the message, a small grin on her face, and said, "Because then I might have something to tell you at least. It's not like I actually know much about him right now."

"Oh my gosh! You gave him your number?! Maybe it _will_ be worth the wait."

"Please don't make this into something it isn't." Ann objected knowing that her friend would get the hint.

Despite that, Ann's enthusiastic friend latched onto her arm, talking a mile a minute. Ann wouldn't have it any other way.

On the evening before, Ann had again worn the suit. She had slipped it on while it was looking like a swimsuit and it had taken her a few tries to will it back into 'costume-mode'. This time she had donned it completely naked and the difference was palpable. Without any clothes in the way, Ann had really felt connected to the suit in a way she was unable to describe. It was like they were one, in some strange way. On a more practical level, it had also supported her breasts better than a sports bra. The moment she had been completely covered, she had sworn to never again put on any underwear under the suit.

Unlike in her first night, Ann had taken care not to wander into dangerous neighborhoods. It hadn't been out of fear, she was reasonably sure that she could look after herself. Instead, it was worry that someone might notice her, and people are more attentive when they try not to get found. Ann held no illusions that her first confrontation with criminals as a super powered woman had been a lucky one. They had no means to injure her, the victim had played along and the thugs had been so beaten up that they had offered no other opinion.

What if they had bigger guns next time?

What if the victim speaks of Ann?

What if the criminals remembered her?

What if said mobsters didn't have conveniently implicating evidence on them?

So many things could go wrong and chances were that one of them would go wrong eventually. Ann didn't want to risk it and thus had only played around. She had found out that climbing down headfirst was indeed more comfortable, that she could easily lift a van and that she felt like she could run faster than any Olympic contender in history. That was something.

The lunch break on Tuesday saw Ann make her way to a café she rarely frequented, mainly because it was a good ten minute walk away. She had arranged to meet Ben there, who still hadn't told her why they were meeting; only that it wasn't anything important. That, of course, only made her more curious. Jessica had stopped prying, but then she had never been a big gossip to begin with, though she did love playing at being one.

In no time at all she could make out Ben's blonde hair and worn Yankee's jacket. He noticed her only a few moments later and waved her over with a large smile. Ann had to worm her way through the midday crowd, something that she didn't much like. Of course, this couldn't take long at all and soon she was seated opposite her acquaintance.

"Hi, Ben. Had a nice week so far?" Ann started.

"Can't complain and you?" He answered non-committal.

"Same here, a normal start into another week. Do they offer lunch? I only ever see people drink coffee here." She asked

"Sure they do." Ben slid the menu other to her.

Just as he did that, a waitress appeared out of what might as well have been nowhere. Ben ordered with the same nonchalance he seemed to display at all times. Ann took a bit longer, unfamiliar with the café. Soon they were left alone again. Ann thought that she might get whatever problem Ben had out of the way before they were eating.

"So, how can I help you, Ben?" She asked.

"Well, you already do," Ben stated, grinning silly. "Just you being here is good enough for me, Ann."

Ann felt slightly uncomfortable about where this was headed. "This isn't some stupid scheme you use to get a date, right?" She had seen far worse than that, though.

Ben's eyes widened and he waved his arms in front of him. "No nothing like that! I'd never do something like that!" Ann eyed him skeptically, but let him continue. "It's not some other weird ploy or anything. My sister-in-law, Mary-Jane, just kept on going that I have no life outside my job and my niece. She isn't exactly wrong, I guess, but by meeting you I can get her and my aunt to stop worrying all the time."

Ann shook her head. Of course it was something both harmless and motivated by his very odd sense of responsibility. It's terribly obvious that he was embarrassed by this, and she was rather sure that he had planned to tell her a reason for their lunch that wouldn't be quite so awkward. Not that Ann was any different. She was a bit embarrassed, too, about taking a strangely worded statement so very serious. It said a lot about the caliber of men she had attracted throughout her short life. Eddie had been the only decent guy.

"You sure are good at coming across like a weirdo, Mr. Parker." Ann said, in order to break the silence.

"It's a gift!" Ben answered, again smiling, though not as easily, before he sighed and continued. "That's probably what they meant, though. I've really been a bit of a loner lately."

Wanting to shift away from any uncomfortable topics, like the private life of either of them, she decided to aim at something save: Ben's job.

"Your job must be exciting, if it takes up so much of your time and interest." She said

"Well, it's not so much that my job is really that important. I'm just working uphill," he explained. "You see, I had been traveling for a long time and when I got back here, I had a hard time getting a job. So, Peter, my brother, put in a word at a local paper."

"Oh, so you are a journalist, too? Is that how you met Eddie?" Ann asked.

"Not really. I always had an eye for composition so I do the layout at The Daily Bugle," he answered.

"The Bugle? Your brother must've been respected there. I wonder how I never heard of him." She rested her head on her hands.

Ben chuckled at that. "I'm not surprised. Jameson always called my brother's work worthless or shoddy or quite a variety of other less than pleasant words, I doubt he'd help Peter becoming famous. Not because Jameson is so petty - though there is that, too, I guess - rather it's because he would have had to pay Peter more money then."

"Reminds me of my own boss," Ann grumbled.

"Yeah, it seems that being a jerk really helps with getting ahead in this world, doesn't it?" Ben remarked wistfully. He leaned back and folded his hands behind his head. "Eh, doesn't seem worth it. I'd rather be poor in money than in character."

"So how did you get your job then, if your brother wasn't important enough?" Ann wondered.

"Oh his work was important and he had plenty of friends who basically nagged Jameson into accepting me. I'm sure you actually saw a lot of Peter's photos." Ben elaborated. "I could simply show you an example, got one on me right now."

He grabbed his bag and pulled out the current issue of the Bugle. The first page was dedicated to Spider-Man, nothing new there. "Spider-Menace still at large!" It read and Ann couldn't help but think that it must've been a slow news day. Not even the photo was new, she had seen it a couple of times before. She expected him to show her some specific page, but he just slid it over the table.

"That picture of Spider-Man was shot by him," he said. "Nearly all pictures of Spider-Man in The Daily Bugle had been shot by him. That's why you don't see new ones all that often. Jameson might have hated the photos, but he wasn't exactly drowning in offers."

Ann picked the paper up and stared at it, but didn't start reading. When she had been in middle school her parents would often remark how forward thinking the Daily Bugle had been. John Jonah Jameson had been admired for his vocal support of civil right movements and repeated exposure of organized crime.

But once she had entered high school, and Spider-Man had become well known, things had changed.

The Bugle was now synonymous with derision for the grey area of vigilantism in general and Spider-Man in particular. No month went without yet another smear campaign. Ann hadn't read a single issue of them, not since the Sin Eater Scandal. Their articles about Eddie hadn't been enough to sue, but certainly enough for her to never look at the paper again. This issue was probably more of the same, riding the wave of anti-costume movements.

Just as she thought for something to say their food arrived. Ben didn't ask her opinion and instead opted for more typical subjects, like weather and traffic. Ann wasn't keen on arguing with Ben about his job. What were the odds of both Parker twins working at the Daily Bugle and not agreeing - at least to some degree - with its content? Ann, however, largely disagreed with it, not least due to the revelations of Sunday. And while the hysterics may have died down, most people regarded the 'capes' with suspicion. Thus the change of topic was very welcome.

Once they were both done with their lunch, they paid and made to leave. The pleasant meal had driven away the uncomfortable thoughts about The Daily Bugle. Ben's strange attitude had been rather refreshing and funny, although, he sometimes made very somber and biting observations. This made Ann wonder how a person could end up like this. Most of the time he was open, funny and friendly, but sometimes there was a glimpse of a cynical, bitter, even tired man. All in all, Ann enjoyed herself and when Ben offered to walk her back to her office she accepted. They continued to talk about this and that and she was thankful for his company.

This changed the moment Ben turned to her and said, "You still haven't said a thing about the paper. Back there you just kind of zoned out."

Ann winced for a second; she really had hoped he'd leave that topic alone. "Well, I'm not reading the Daily Bugle regularly," she answered stiffly. "So I don't really know what to make of it."

"Really? I guess everyone has their own interests. The photo is just one of Peter's bests. Great angle, very dynamic and perfect lighting. It had taken him years to get it right, you know?" He explained, disappointment evident in his voice.

That statement made Ann feel really foolish. She was so used to people asking uncomfortable questions, to having to watch what she said, that she rarely left her guard down. Jessica was one of the few persons Ann didn't need to watch her tongue with, yet she did it all the same out of habit.

She shook her head and replied, "I thought you meant the story or costumed vigilantes in general."

"Seems like a heavy subject to discuss over dinner. And it would be rude to just drop it on you," he sounded wistful again. "Maybe we should discuss our voting habits and our stand on health care and immigration, too. Just to be sure that we have talked about all the controversial subjects, you know?"

"Oh, I can see it now! And on our next meeting, we'll discuss the economy and our president's foreign policy!" Ann played along. The thought was pretty silly when she looked at it from this angle.

After a few minutes of silence between them Ben spoke up again. "I'd actually tried to avoid that topic at the café. I mean, you work at a law firm. You are probably a lot closer to the cases we print. I'm sorry that I still brought it up."

"How do you know my job?" Ann asked curiously.

This time she didn't expect something weird, like him stalking her. She didn't know Ben for long, but every strange thing he did seemed to have a reasonable explanation. Then it hit her, just as he made to answer her. "Of course! I told you the address, in case I would be late. I bet even only working in layout, you still know the location of most important places. You probably see these things every day."

"Maybe not every day, but close," Ben agreed. "But why were you so worried about being a bit late?"

"I often forget the time and I ignore my mobile even more frequently. My friend keeps complaining that she has to drag me to our lunch break," Ann explained. "And back to the other matter, you don't need to apologize. I was just nervous about offending you, after you said you worked at the Daily Bugle."

"Ah now I get it. Jameson's rants on Spider-Man and others like him, right?" Ben said.

Ann nodded and continued, "It makes sense, I guess. The Punisher has killed more people than can be counted, Daredevil assaults supposed criminals in the middle of the night and there are rarely witnesses. Even Spider-Man has gotten more violent than he was years ago. Then there are cases like the Sin Eater. No cape could be bothered to do something, just because the **Sin Eater** had no powers himself. That's what the police and the papers said."

"I really don't know what to say to that, Ann," Ben tried, but she was really on a roll.

"On the other hand, every week I see criminals getting away without even a slap on the wrist. So many police officers don't do their work, entire law firms exist to make sure that the Maggia and their sick ilk can do whatever they feel like. I kind of understand that sometimes justice can't be easily served. And that doesn't even take all these insane super criminals into account. Who takes care of them, if not Spider-Man? Also…"

"Ann." This time Ben put a hand on her shoulder, and she jumped a little but turned to him. "Sorry about that. But we are already at your office building and you seemed determined to keep on marching." She blushed and made to apologize, but Ben still had something to say. "I'd like to say two things to this. Next time we can talk about that properly, without fear of offending each other okay?" Ann nodded and he went on.

"First, I think including the Punisher really gives that man too much credit. And second, I can't say that I know what they think, but what would you do if you had such powers and abilities? Way I see it, they try to be responsible about it. But, yes, they have something to hide. Only, who says that what they are hiding is something bad? And whether they have a good or bad influence on the world is not for me to decide. At least they aren't trying to rob banks with their abilities. We have enough lunatics doing that without powers thrown into the mix, right?"

Ann giggled at that. "Thank you for being so patient with my strange ticks." She realized that she had to get back to work and sighed. "I had fun today, but I got to get back to work, Ben."

"Then let's meet again sometime."

"Gladly and this time without your sister-in-law forcing you to spend time with another person," Ann joked and it was Ben's turn to blush.

They said their goodbyes and Ann made her way back to her small office. She had a lot to take care of, but that wasn't what was bothering her. That last bit of her conversation with Ben went through her mind again. That had clearly been frustration talking, but it was still true, wasn't it? The police weren't able to contain these super powered criminals. And while the likes of Daredevil and Spider-Man may not always be in line with police regulations, they got the job done. There was also what Ben had said about responsibility. They had the powers and abilities and used them to help others. So what if they concealed their identity? There wouldn't only be petty street thugs after them, if their names got out. Even organized crime was a pale threat compared to a 700 pounds man, dressed in an animal suit and able to throw around battle tanks.

As she thought about that, Ann came to the realization that she, too, had this power now and thus the same responsibility. With the help of the black suit, she also could do her part in keeping this city safe. Maybe not everyone she caught would stay behind bars, but lots of degenerates didn't stay behind bars. That was no excuse, not anymore. And unlike other caped heroes, Ann would always know when someone escaped justice.

With new clarity, Ann entered her office, looking forward to the next time she would don her suit. And this time she wouldn't just play around. This time she would right some wrongs.


	5. Chapter 4

Ann Weying: Succession

 **-** Chapter 4 **-**

Friday night was slowly coming to a close and Saturday morning quite literally on the horizon. Ann entered her bedroom from the balcony, like she had done every single night after trying out the suit. Her gait had an uneasy stagger to it, unsurprising after a week of living a double life. Working her job at Stenfield & Limziki during the day and swinging through the streets at night would have left most people spent. She dropped into her bed, mildly groaning from the pain in her overworked limbs.

Ever since her conversation with Ben, Ann had been busily investigating those that had escaped justice, both with and without her suit.

She had started on Tuesday afternoon with the 'innocent businessman' who had been 'slandered and wrongly accused' by Dr. Max Streiser. Salvatore Cremonesi, as his name had turned out to be, had been found innocent not on the basis of the massive evidence presented by well-known philanthropist Wilson Fisk. There _had_ indeed been a large influx of new evidence and within two weeks the judge had thrown the case out 'in light of the new evidence'. However, this evidence had never been properly examined. The attorney hadn't fought the decision either. It didn't add up.

Thus Ann donned her suit and paid him a visit after the sun went down. Two lawyers had been present, nothing too surprising there, she had visited clients at odd hours as well. If Cremonesi had been her client, she would be in contact with him on a near daily basis following his release, too. He had planned to sue in return, after all. The manor itself had been tastefully decorated, showing off his wealth without being pretentious. That, too, had not been surprising.

What had been surprising was the presence of two unassuming men. Short, well-kept hair, of average height and casually clothed, these two could probably disappear in any crowd. It had taken a bit of breaking and entering to listen in, but it had been trivial with her new abilities, not to mention worth it. They had been talking about planting evidence and the two men were told at length what kind of item to place where by the lawyers. They had taken such care to know every little detail about Dr. Streiser and his research, about his habits and vices. Most importantly, they had known everything about his schedule.

The corruption of her 'colleagues' had sickened her and the urge to teach them a lesson, like she had Arder and his cronies, had risen inside her. It had been tough, but she kept that urge under control. She had remembered how Arder only got in trouble due to the suitcase that he had with him. It had been pure coincidence. The chances that Cremonesi had something so obviously incriminating in his manor had been slim to none.

After the meeting had been concluded, Ann had snuck back out and tailed the hired gangsters. To her dismay, they had decided to use the subway, a public and comparatively well-lit place. Had she thought to bring some clothes to change into, she could have willed the suit into its swimsuit form and continued. But alas, hindsight was always 20/20. Thus Ann had returned home, some unfortunate muggers diverting her for a few minutes notwithstanding.

Wednesday she had spent looking out for Dr. Streiser. That is, she had spent the time after her job looking out for him. It had taken her a few hours to realize how utterly ridiculous it was for her to do so and by that time it had been too late to do something productive. Since she didn't plan to quit her job there was no point to observe the threatened scientist. Hoping that she would catch Cremonesi's henchmen during those odd hours she could spare was basically impossible.

Ann's Thursday had been very slow. As Jessica had predicted, Dr. Streiser had requested Ann as his lawyer and she had spent the day going over his statements, claims and how they might defend accusations based on the same. She had also tried to make it clear that he had to be especially careful with anything and everything. One innocent remark or note may cost him his reputation. The middle aged man had been distressed to see Ann so serious, but told her that he would keep a low profile.

Dr. Streiser hadn't been the only one in distress. Ann had wrecked her brain, trying to find a better way to protect her client without success. She had thought about going after Cremonesi, but that might make her client look guilty. And even if she could find those hired men and put them behind bars, what would stop Cremonesi from just hiring more? She had no hard evidence beyond what she had witnessed.

The news that several robberies had taken place during the last few nights had very nearly been a salvation to Ann. That, at least, had been a problem with a clear solution. So Ann went after that new gang right after work, having taken her 'swimsuit' with her.

It had been easy finding them during the night, they were hardly inconspicuous. The gang had consisted of five young men, though men might have been too generous, as Ann hadn't been sure that they were even out of their teens. They had guns on them but hardly the expertise to use them. Not that it would have mattered against Ann and her suit. Within moments, she had them beaten and on the ground, planning to tie them up for the police.

That's when something interesting happened. One of them, the youngest if Ann had to judge by appearance only, broke down and started to ramble. He had told her of a place behind a bar where they were hired to rob the stores they had targeted throughout the last few nights. Or that had been what Ann pieced together. It wasn't exactly coherent.

It had made sense. How else would five small time thugs be able to rob several different stores without the police being on to them? Someone was covering for them, which would also explain why Ann had only heard of it after a good half dozen attributed robberies. She had resolved to check up on the place the hysterical man could have meant during Friday night.

Unfortunately, it had turned out that his description fit more than just a few bars. _A lot more_. By the time she decided to call it a night, she had visited more than a dozen different bars, none of which had held even a hint of criminal activity. Well, she had heard some local rumors about a series of warehouses having surprising activities lately and nobody knowing who was conducting business there.

Rumors, however, were not what Ann was after. She was sprawled across her bed, still covered from head to toe in her suit. She didn't know who hired those young thugs and she was no closer to putting a lid on Cremonesi's dealings, whether they be directly criminal or only against Dr. Streiser. Meanwhile Cremonesi was probably sleeping blissfully and content in his posh bed, surrounded by furniture more expensive than Ann's apartment.

As she imagined it, Ann could feel a spike of envy. She, too, wanted to be successful and being able to show it off. But who wouldn't? There was little use in lamenting the lack of fairness in the world. The only thing she could do was to try and make it a better place. And she would, right after she got the suit off and got a few hours of shut-eye.

Groaning, the young woman picked herself up from the bed, her suit enhanced muscles protesting the exertion. She slid towards the edge of bed and once there struggled to her feet. Just as she wanted to shift her suit, her enhanced sight caught her reflection in her bedroom mirror. Seeing the nearly all-black female figure with those piercing white eye covers and the sun emblem on her chest still amazed her.

It was still hard to believe that this figure in the mirror was really her. This suit had not even been in her possession for a week and it had already changed her life. She had started looking at every topic from more than one angle for one. A world beyond her former horizon emerged and she quite liked the view of it.

She also liked the power that the suit provided her. Speed, Strength and those Spider-Man-esque abilities were all immensely enjoyable. Oh, and the endurance, of course! Despite leading a double life and being awake from eighteen to twenty hours, she only recently started to feel tired. Well, now she was feeling truly exhausted, but that wasn't too surprising. The suit was still working with her body and whatever it was doing to enhance her must have limits.

Reaching out with one hand and touching the smooth glass, Ann sighed and concentrated on changing the suit into its less encompassing form.

Only for nothing to happen.

She blinked a few times, confused about what was going on and tried again. This time she could see the suit's surface to ripple for a few moments, only to smooth back out. Confusion filled her and she wondered what was wrong.

Maybe she did something different last time? No, she was sure that everything about her was exactly the same. Could it be that she didn't really want to take it off and the suit realized that? Well, she didn't want to take it off, but she had to and so she would. She couldn't keep it on, however much she wanted to. A chill went down her spine when she got the notion that her exhaustion was a sign that the suit was breaking down. That could also explain her current trouble getting it off.

Just as she followed that thought to its conclusion, the suit rippled away from her hands, feet and head. Within moments it was in its swimsuit form leaving the blonde's legs and arms bare. Relief surged through her and she tried to calm down. As usual her body was quite sweaty from her exertions and she grimaced at the thought of showering before going to bed. Ann was simply too tired to do so.

She gripped the edge of her swimsuit and pulled at it. It didn't resist, being very flexible, but it was nearly glued to her body, probably from having worn it for more than twelve hours straight. The sweat wasn't helping any, Ann was sure.

After a few more tugs she got the neck opening down her shoulders and shifted her grip. The fabric instantly pulled back together and Ann had to start anew. That had happened before, always frustrating her, but unlike the last few days Ann was well and truly down with the day. After one more half-hearted attempt, she gave it up as a bad job and decided to leave it on for the night.

Ann very nearly fell onto her bed and snuggled under her sheets, once more noting how well the suit fit and how comfortable she felt. And, if she was completely honest with herself, how much safer she felt with it on.

Swinging through the streets was as exhilarating as usual for Ann, but she didn't know what to do. It seemed like she hadn't completely recovered from the exhaustion of the day before, as her mind seemed to go in circles. Shaking her head, she decided to clear her head before doing anything else.

The cool air felt soothing to her, almost like it was tickling her skin, though its smell, even subdued as it was through the mask, was hardly comforting. Ann tried to relax and get her bearings, but the dazzling lights and sounds of nighttime Manhattan were not helping in the least. She could have sworn that she saw the Cremonesi's face on one of the advertising panels. That was the last straw and with a quick flick of her wrist she switched her direction leaving the still crowded main streets behind.

Nearly instantly she felt better, the noise and exhaust fumes soon a distant memory. Ann wasn't quite sure where she was, but that didn't bother her. Her head was clearing and that was all that mattered.

Right then the black clad woman could swear she heard someone screaming: A pained, distinctly male voice echoing through these unfamiliar alleys.

Instantly she turned towards it, deciding that being wrong was better than being late. She was all but flying through the backstreets at breakneck speed, nearly grazing the rapidly shifting buildings on more than one occasion. Not that this made her slow down, especially not when she heard another, louder scream. Instead she somehow sped up, trusting in her suit to keep her steady.

When she spotted one man standing over a bleeding figure, she knew she found her quarry.

She retracted her suits string and simply dropped down to the street, not even bothering to slow down. For a heartbeat Ann wondered whether she had overdone it and would now hurt herself, but the landing was unbelievably smooth and quiet. Just as she looked up, she saw the man aiming a revolver at the bleeding person, also male. Before he could squeeze its trigger, she was on him gripping his wrist and squeezing not too gently. The gun dropped to the blood-stained ground and Ann idly wondered how she heard the scream yet no shot.

It took her no effort to turn the man around, but once she saw his face there was no containing her surprise.

There, right in front of her, was one of the two men hired by Cremonesi to falsify evidence against Dr. Streiser. She had looked for this man and his partner all week, only for him to turn up right in front of her. Ann truly couldn't believe her luck, though she wasn't sure which one it was. Their feature blended into each other when she tried to remember.

A feral grin spread itself over her face, so wide that even the mask felt like it shifted along it. Ann released his wrist and grabbed his neck instead. With no effort at all she lifted him off the ground, enjoying how his feet flayed above the ground.

"Look who I found," Ann said, her voice containing a rare edge. "You know, I looked all over Manhattan for you. I wonder what you were doing here." She paused for a moment, as if waiting for an answer he couldn't give. "Don't bother, I don't really care. I only care that I finally have you."

With that she threw him against one nearby dumpster and stalked slowly after him.

"But now that I have you, I don't really know what to do with you," Ann explained slowly and carefully, feeling the mask shift uncharacteristically. "I suppose I should punish you. You certainly deserved it before, but now? Now you even shot some poor man. Now, I'll make you suffer."

There was this feeling that she should get help for the man on the ground, but another feeling told her that she should punish her victim first. The idea struck her as somehow… wrong… but she went with her gut feeling on this.

Grabbing the still coughing man off the ground with both hands, Ann held him up again. A pungent stench filled the air, causing Ann to grin once more.

"Is that fear I smell or did you…?" Her malicious voice trailed off playfully and she looked down, expecting to see a growing wet spot in his trousers. But there was none. Was she truly smelling his fear? Confused she looked up again and saw his eyes widen in terror. She pulled him closer, only an inch or two away from her face.

"Sssssooo, where were…" She started asking when she felt her tongue slip out and dance right in front of her eyes. Surprised, she let it weave back and forth and across the man's face, letting her taste his salty sweat. Why was her tongue so long?

Suddenly his terrified scream filled the air, echoing through the alley and Ann dropped him involuntarily. It sounded just like the scream she had heard earlier. He huddled against the dumpster, pure terror edged into his face. Seeing that caught her attention and she got closer, savoring the feeling of dominance despite herself.

Ann was torn between finding out what was going on with her and finally punishing the worm in front of her. Just as she was standing there, a light lit up and she could see a lone puddle a few steps away. Ann couldn't remember rain, but it didn't matter. The man wasn't going anywhere. She took a few steps closer, playing with her fascinatingly long tongue along the way. As she bent over to see her mask she instantly froze.

There was no mask over her head.

There was nothing human there at all.

Only an endless dripping maw and soulless white eyes.

Ann shot up inside her bed and was instantly blinded by bright sunlight. And yet she barely moved, only shoving one hand in front of her eyes, her mind still consumed by that nightmarish visage she saw in place of her own face. What had that been about? Why was she seeing herself as a… a… _that_!

It had been a terrifying dream to be sure. She hadn't dreamed of monsters for more than a decade, or at least she couldn't remember dreaming of them. To think that one could still shake her up like that… she felt like a silly little girl. She grimaced at the door to the balcony, regretting that she hadn't closed the shutters there. That wasn't how she wanted to wake up, but vividly imagining yourself as an inhuman creature was bound to affect most people.

Maybe she should talk to Jessica about the dream later? As that thought formed to completion all sleepiness fell away from her. If the sun was shining directly into her face it must be well past morning! A look at the clock in her room confirmed it: It was already past noon and she had only about thirty minutes until she was supposed to meet her friend.

Ann jumped out of her bed and pulled the swimsuit off in record time, despite its usual clingy fit. That done, she dove into her bathroom and took care of only the bare necessities. With a towel on her still wet hair she came out and took notice of the time. While she may very well have set a new personal record at getting ready, there was no way for her to arrive even remotely on time in Manhattan's traffic. She grabbed her mobile and sent Jessica a message that she will be late.

Growing more and more agitated she pulled out the clothes she was going to wear and threw them at her bed. Taking the car was out, finding a parking lot would take far too long. So taking the taxi it was. As she turned around, her gaze landed on the discarded suit. She cringed a bit at her careless treatment of her prized possession, when she suddenly realized that she might need it. There were still the warehouses to check up on, even though the sceptic in her doubted that it would lead to anything.

Wasting no time second guessing herself, she instantly pulled the suit back on. She briefly worried about working up a sweat wearing another layer, having never worn it with any substantial clothing. But instead of fretting about that, she started laying out her outfit for the day. Whatever the suit was made of, it had always felt feather light.

With that done, Ann continued to pick out her clothes. For a moment she stared at her choice, frowning at her chosen wardrobe. The young woman had never been very fashion conscious, only paying attention to her work attire without being prompted. A large part of it was Ann's diffident nature, causing her to prefer modest – some would say old-fashioned – clothing. But right at this moment, Ann was wishing that she had something a bit more… flashy to meet Jessica in.

"What I wouldn't give for that white dress I saw yesterday…" Ann murmured under her breath and continued to gather her things.

Just as she was about done, taking her well-worn, but well-cared for loafers out of the shoe cupboard, Ann could feel her swimsuit-like garment starting to shift. Its texture momentarily changed into a viscous black liquid, almost sludge like. Not unlike it did when changing its shape between its swimsuit form and its full body suit form. It only took but a second, but Ann could feel and audibly hear the material ooze across her skin, reconfiguring itself and taking on even newer shapes and textures.

Instead of extending itself across Ann's entire body, like it had done several times in the past weeks before leading into her now regular nightly activities, the costume took on the shape of seemingly regular clothes: A white, knee length lace dress formed around her, followed by an accompanying denim jacket. They were a great fit, without hugging her figure too tightly. While she was still surprised, the suit's black oil-like material stretched under the dress and changed into a pair of black tights and equally black flats. All of these changes happened in the span of only a few seconds.

For a whole minute Ann stood there speechless, her previously selected outfit left forgotten on the bed. Then she spun around and looked at herself in the mirror, examining the changes her costume had taken on. The suit had captured every detail of the outfit Ann had pictured in her mind perfectly. The clothes had not a single wrinkle, as if she had just ironed them. The tights looked perfectly pristine as well.

Ann ran a hand down the dress. To the woman's touch, these clothes felt just like normal cloth. She mentally noted, though, how she had never felt a dress so comfortable. The cloth felt as unrestrictive and gentle on her skin as the suit always did.

Smiling, Ann said aloud "I know you're _just_ a costume, but you just keep finding new ways to surprise me!" as she continued to examine the suit's changes in the mirror. Ann was puzzled why it hadn't transformed like this before, though.

Looking to her clock again, the woman was immediately pulled out of her awe. Ann would have to solve this mystery later. She was still going to be more than fashionably late, regardless of the incredibly lucky break she just got.

With that in mind, she gathered up her odds and ends, put them into the purse and left her apartment. If she hurried and with a bit more luck, Ann hoped Jess wouldn't be too cross with her.

The yellow taxi Ann managed to catch had one of those stereotypical insane Manhattan cabbies. Shouting, honking and swearing seemed to him as vital to get Ann from her apartment building to Central Park as shifting gears and turning the wheel. It didn't take long until Ann handed the driver the money, along with the usual tip, and stumbled out. Her entire body felt stiff from the drive. Ann never felt quite at ease in New York's traffic when she wasn't driving herself. Cab rides like this were thankfully rare, but they also reminded the young lawyer why she hadn't given up her own car.

She crossed the street and entered Central Park, along with what seemed like every resident of Manhattan not busy clogging the streets. Ann had not been a fan of crowds in her teenage day and, although she got better about it, she still preferred people in more manageable numbers.

It took only a minute to find Jessica. The brunette sat at on a bench staring at Ann with a sour expression. They both knew just how late the blonde was and Ann was quite conscious that she still looked barely presentable due to her 'morning' rush. She got closer and made to greet her friend, only to be instantly cut off.

"Do you know how long I've been waiting? Don't answer that." Jessica asked testily, her arms crossed and her face drawn into a frown. She got up, looked Ann over and her eyes softened. "Look at you! You've worked through the night on the Streiser case, haven't you? I've asked you so many times to take better care of yourself. The job isn't as important as your health."

Before this could turn into a lecture, Ann intervened: "I know, Jess. You've only told me a dozen times."

"You don't look like you've listened, honey. In fact, you look like you rolled off your bed, into your clothes and out the door." Once again Jessica looked her over. "Though I got to admit that I do like the outfit. It really suits you."

Ann looked down herself, immediately reminded that she wasn't really wearing her own clothes. Well, technically the suit was hers, thus the clothes were, too. A shy smile spread itself across her face, "Thanks! You wouldn't believe how surprised I was to stumble across it."

"Well, I think that look on your face might just convince me, Ann." Jessica replied teasingly and Ann's cheeks showed the hint of a blush. "But it's really nice. It's great that you're trying new things out."

"Well…" Ann began, uncertain of how to react to what she considered undeserved praise, "It was only a coincidence."

"It doesn't look like it. You know, Ann, you are so confident when you are on the clock. Just use that confidence elsewhere, too. And hey, if you want a second opinion on anything, I'm only a phone call away."

This wasn't the first time they talked about this subject or something related to it, but it was the first time that Jess addressed it so directly.

"I know you only want to help, but I really don't feel comfortable imposing on you for something like my wardrobe." Ann responded lamely.

"You can't always do everything on your own…" Jessica trails of somewhat disappointed. Then she brightens up, seizes Ann's arm and starts walking deeper into the park. "I'm not going to brood over this and neither are you, Ms. Weying! And you still haven't told me what you did all night."

Taken aback by Jessica's rapid change of both topics and mood, Ann could only stammer. She was trying in vain to come with something both plausible _and_ unrelated to her job. After a few more moments of spluttering and frantic thinking, Jess started to giggle.

"Sorry, Ann, but you always get so incredibly flustered when you are blindsided. You don't have to tell me. I'm your friend, not your mother."

Taking a moment to calm down, Ann mustered a properly snarky response. "Maybe you should try telling that to yourself, I'm surprised that I can't already quote all your lectures verbatim."

That got Jessica to frown and before it slowly contorted into a grin and she snorted. Seeing her friend's face bend awkwardly caused Ann to giggle herself and soon the two young women were laughing together.

From there the two of them went on to talk about everything and nothing. Every now and then work and their colleagues would sneak into their little world of sunshine and greenery, but they mostly kept their conversation free of legalities. Whether they were talking about books, fashion or new movies – with Jessica urging Ann to finally use her Netflix subscription before it would die of loneliness – Ann was feeling relaxed and comfortable. And wasn't that a far cry from her frantic first hour?

That brought her mind back to that frightful nightmare that caused her to wake up in the first place. And with it came a desire to talk about it. They were sitting on a park bench enjoying ice cream in companionable silence, when Ann broached the subject.

"I had this really weird and scary dream last night," she said and waited for her brunette friend's reaction.

"Like a nightmare?" Jess asked. Receiving a nod as an answer she went on, "What was it about?"

"It's hard to remember, but in it I stopped a mugger or something. Or maybe it was something worse. Anyway, I felt really good about this, but for some reason when I looked into a puddle I didn't see my own face." Ann continued solemnly.

"Don't stop at the interesting part, girl…"

"Yes, yes. So it wasn't my face and it wasn't anything human-like at all. There were these huge jaws with dagger like teeth instead of my mouth." Ann tried to mimic an open maw with her hands. "And the tongue between it was easily a foot long, if not longer, whipping back and forth in front of my- I mean that thing's face." Again, she used her arm to emulate the strange movement. "And, and there were these strange eyes, like no eyes I've ever seen. As if they were spread across most of the upper part of the face, without pupils or anything."

At this point, Ann was looking straight at Jessica, noticing her friend's skeptical expression.

"Are you sure it was a nightmare and not something you picked up from a novel? You certainly don't sound scared, though I give you the 'weird' part." Jess pointed out.

As she heard this, Ann realized that it was true. While she had been terrified of the strange visage when she woke up, she definitely wasn't nearly as scared of it anymore. She was intrigued now, if anything.

"You know what, Jess? I think you are right. I think I just needed to talk about it and get over it. Thanks for listening." Ann said smiling, causing her friend to smile as well.

"Sooo…" Jess began after a few moments. "Didn't you say that you wanted to meet this 'Ben' here as well? Where is he?"

"Don't really know, but he warned me that he might be late."

"This Ben is late and you were late for the first time in… ever. And that happened after you met him. Talk about 'bad influences'." And the teasing recommenced.

"Get it all out of your system, preferably before Ben gets here. You might scare him away with your harpy-like ways."

"And that would be very bad for Ms. Weying, right?" Jess wiggled her eyebrows suggestively while she said that.

"Exactly!" came Ann's response. "Why, I might be forced to head home and get back to work on the Streiser case and you wouldn't want that, would you?"

Jess laughed a bit. "Good, you're getting your attitude back. I was really worried these past two weeks. But in all honesty, I have to head out. Tell your friend that I'm sorry that I missed him." With that she got up and gave Ann a warm hug.

"Will do. Take care, Jess, and have a nice weekend." Ann replied.

"Always, honey. Till Monday!"

"Until Monday."

With those words, Jessica went on her way and Ann sat back down on the bench, waiting for Ben and trying to figure out her weird dream.

She wasn't sure how long she was idly trying to recall the missing specifics of her nightmare. It couldn't have been _too_ long, on account of how the sun was still in roughly the same spot. And it wasn't rewarding in any case. While the details seemed to be just at the edge of her mind, Ann just couldn't get them into focus. Maybe she should have written them down in her apartment… but then she would have been even more late.

"Hey there! I hope you weren't waiting for long," Ben's apologetic voice easily brought her out of her thoughts. She had been expecting him, after all.

"Hello, Ben," was Ann's short answer.

She wanted to remind him that he had warned her about him running late, but didn't and simply smiled at him. She didn't want to discuss his peculiar habit of faulting himself for next to everything. There was this distinct dread that the habit might be stemming from survivor's guilt. And she had frankly no idea how to broach something like that.

So instead of getting into another far too serious conversation with him, she yawned and moved the conversation to a save topic, "That has been one long week. I'm feeling like I've been up day and night."

"You, too? Must be something about spring that gets everyone productive, maybe because we're not cooped up inside anymore." Ben replied amiably.

"I wish I had your enthusiasm, I guess you've got to have some to work in Journalism. But you misunderstood. I meant that the week completely drained me."

"I see…" Ben took on a very fake-contemplative look. "So… does that mean you are only lively enough to sit around or are you able to limp along to that Hot-Dog stand over there."

"Hmm... That might be worth an effort."

It only took a few minutes to walk the stand, get their snacks and be on their way. They were idly talking about nothing of import, weather, nice sights in the park. Ann made sure to tell Ben that he had just missed Jessica. Once Ann finished her portion, she realized that she could easily eat another pair of Hot-Dogs and without thinking about it she said that out loud.

Ben looked at her strangely and then said, "You really don't look the type to inhale fast-food like that. I'd pegged you as someone very health oriented."

"Thanks, and you'd usually be right. But this last week my appetite kind of… doubled." The moment she finished that, Ann realized that it might have something to do with the suit. She cursed herself for not thinking before talking.

"That might be something serious. Maybe you should go to a doctor." Then he shrugged. "Or maybe it's nothing and it'll right itself. You said that the week was pretty tough."

"Yes, that's probably it. I'll keep it in mind, though." She thanked her lucky stars that Ben wasn't Jess. The latter would have noticed her hiccup and might have badgered her into saying things that Ann should best keep to herself.

They kept on walking through Central Park, again comfortably sharing tidbits of their week. It was… nice, Ann decided. A pleasant day to come down from a really exhausting week. Not that she was regretting her nights swinging through Manhattan's skyline.

As she was contemplating this, she could hear a couple of people being rambunctious. She couldn't understand their words yet and they were hidden from sight by various plants. Ben also noticed and stared in the direction of the noise. People were hurriedly coming out of that direction. Both of them started walking faster, worried that they might find something not too pretty.

And they were right to be worried.

There stood three big, burly men in biker gear, their leather vests brandishing a familiar 'Dogs of Hell' embroidered patch on each man's back. Accompanying the men were a couple of scantily clad women. Together, they were all making quite the scene. Not just garden-variety vandalism either. Lying between them, hands curled protectively around his head, was an elderly man. His threadbare clothes and scruffy appearance made it obvious that he was homeless and had been for some time. Next to him was a turned over shopping cart, with all manner of assorted odds and ends scattered across the ground. Two of the thugs were stomping on the man's belongings, laughing uproariously throughout it.

Watching as the homeless man was tormented; Ann felt anger rise in the back of her mind. To abuse the poorest of the poor and with such glee, it was stomach turning. With every passing moment, she felt her own rage increase. And for seemingly the first time in her life, Ann had the power to stop the men. It was as if she felt a _push_ to act. She could picture in vivid detail the beating she could give the leather clad idiots before her.

It was only a few weeks ago that Ann would have turned and briskly made her way away from the scene speed dialing the police. Violence wasn't foreign to the streets of New York. Especially from an infamous gang such as the Dogs of Hell, who were well known around the underbelly of the city's various boroughs for a variety of crimes; their primary activity is drug trade.

Despite her own sense of justice Ann hadn't been equipped, at the time, to deal with problems like that. Instead, she had been reliant on the aid of local police officers. Personally, Miss Weying was stuck approaching these problems from within the courts. Many times Ann had already been too late to help. By the time the court case had come around, the bad deeds were already done and innocents had already suffered.

That, however, all had changed when she found Eddie's note and the gift he had bestowed upon her. Her new black garbs offered Ann a more direct and immediate method of approaching the various crime outlets of the city. Remembering that despite appearances, she had her suit with her, the world around the woman began to fade into a blur as she felt her hands ball up into tight fists.

"Hey! You drunk, useless dirtbags! How about you pick on someone who can fight back for a change?" Ann shouted, without even thinking.

All at once, the men stopped their violent activities and turned to looked over at Ann and her companion Ben by extension. A silence seemed to fall over the scene as the bikers stared at the blonde. One man, possessing a matted beard and long, unkempt hair, pulled back behind a bandanna, broke the silence with a rough laugh. As he began to approach, the sound of his long wallet chain clanked with every step.

The bearded biker stepped just in front of Ann, where he removed his dark aviator glasses, placing them inside of his worn leather vest.

"So you think you're some sort of badass, huh, toots? Some tough as nails gal standing up to the worthless scum of the world?" The man said, his mouth twisting into a sinister grin, flashing disgusting yellowed teeth from heavy tobacco use. His speech was slightly slurred.

Ann blinked for a moment, as realization hit her. Once she had just come to realize what she had said, the woman's expression morphed from indignation to embarrassed to nervousness as her eyes darted up and down, analyzing the man before her. She knew she would have no problem dispatching the man if needed, but that would likely invite more attention and raise more questions than she was comfortable with. And Ann didn't know whether she was enhanced with the suit mimicking regular clothing as opposed to the skintight black number it usually was.

"Well, uhh- I uhh-"Ann started, as she began to blush a bit and let out a nervous chuckle.

Before Ann managed to stammer something more coherent, Ben stepped between her and the bearded man.

"You know, the lady's right. So you better stop. Right now." The last two words were uttered with a severity, Ben had only displayed when he was lost in thought.

"And what are you going to do about it, milksop? Arrest me? Maybe even hurt my feelings?" Bearded-and-bad-tempered spat at Ben.

"The police will be here soon and you lot have done enough already. I think it would be best for everyone if you stand down." Ben reasoned, but it was painfully obvious that nobody took him seriously.

The other gang members were crowing and cackling. Barely coherent jeers were shouted at Ann and Ben, causing her to get more and more nervous.

"Well, good thing you told me, milksop, or we might have gotten into real trouble here, right?" The thug turned to his gang as he said this, only to whip around and throw a fierce punch at Ben's head.

And despite herself, Ann could only think that the dirtbag would have been better served had he kept his eyes on Ben. Her blonde friend took a healthy step to the side at nearly the same moment the swing started at, causing the fist to harmlessly miss him. Harmlessly for Ben that is, for the hug had now lost his balance. It seemed to take little more than an awkward, if powerful, shove from Ben to send the guy stumbling head first into a park bench. He hit it with a, to Ann very satisfying, crunch and dropped to the ground.

There was more noise from the other bikers, but it wasn't laughter anymore. One of the skanks ran over to their burly leader and tried to shake him awake. Ann couldn't help but snort at the rather pathetic looking gesture.

The others however homed in on the unhappy looking Ben, who was still trying to dissuade them from more violence. It was quite admirable that Ben didn't want anyone to be hurt, even such low-lifes. Not that it was working.

One of the remaining two guys, a younger, somewhat better groomed biker, tried to bull rush Ben, clearly too drunk to do much else. And again Ben merely sidestepped and tripped the biker up, leading to another man hitting the ground. Though this one was of course not unconscious. The last one, a decidedly potbellied fellow, was more cautious and attempted to throw some jabs at Ben, who in turn backed off whenever he got close to being hit, but didn't really fight back.

The second girl appeared content to watch and encourage the pseudo-boxer, at least when she wasn't hurling abuse at Ann's friend. Ann in turn saw the gang's victim trying to get up and went to help him. It didn't take a medical genius to notice that the poor guy had more than a couple of bruises. The way he moved and held himself suggested some sort of hip injury. Just as she helped him into a more comfortable position, Ann saw a movement in the corner of her eye.

"Look out!" She yelled in the nick of time, allowing Ben to stumble out of another rush by the second drunk.

Ann didn't see how or why, but just as the biker ran past Ben something happened causing him to all but fly into the big guy and take a punch meant for Ben right in the face. He staggered around some more before dropping back to the ground. The screaming harpy finally had enough and tried to jump on Ben from behind.

Something suddenly clicked inside Ann at that point. In two long strides she was right behind that foul mouthed skank, grabbed her hair and pulled her back. The girl screamed bloody murder, but Ann didn't care in the least and shoved her into a thicket and kicked her a few times while she was down for good measure.

After making sure that the woman made no effort to get back up, Ann turned to Ben and was somehow unsurprised when she saw that the last biker was also busy kissing the pavement. Her blond friend looked rather nonchalant and not the least bit tired. In fact, he seemed surprisingly nervous, almost like he expects to be in trouble. Instead of dwelling on that, she decided to be proactive and check up on the biker thugs.

"They look pretty out of it, Ben. Can you call an ambulance while I call for the police?" Ann asked as calmly as she could.

Ben hesitated for a few moments before answering, "Ehh… sure…"

"Everything alright with you? Did you get hit?" She was sure that none of those guys managed to hit Ben, but it never hurt to ask.

"Oh? No- nothing like that. I'm fine!" He let out a laugh – The lawyer in her was certain it was fake – and awkwardly rubbed the back of his head. "Just worried that I'll get in trouble is all… How is he?" He looked at the grey-haired man now clutching his chest.

She shook her head worriedly her mobile already in hand and dialed 911. Ben frowned, took out his own and made the call. Ann was done much quicker; because Ben was busy describing symptoms and asking for advice on what he could do before the ambulance arrived. It didn't surprise her that he had first aid training and was making sure he wouldn't screw things up.

Police were there within minutes and none of the 'Dogs of Hell' got away, though it wasn't for lack of trying. The ambulance took a bit longer, Manhattan traffic being what it was, but that gave them the time to calm down the injured homeless, who told them he was called James. He wasn't at all comfortable with the authorities being involved. If Ann had to guess, he had probably some history with the police. Maybe he had a criminal record or he had ended up on the wrong end of some not so friendly neighborhood police officer. The latter wasn't very likely, but it took only one bad encounter to sour one's view. James only calmed down when Ben promised to accompany him to the hospital and help him with whatever might come up.

Their statements were taken and Ann hoped that with the plethora of witnesses, this wouldn't be a drawn out case. Either way, she was now standing next to the ambulance along with Ben, still agitated from the fight.

"Well, today didn't turn out as planned," Ben said.

Ann snorted at that and replied, "You can say that again. Ben, how come you never mentioned how well you can take care of yourself?"

"Ehm… I did tell you that I was moving around a lot, so I naturally had to learn a thing or two about self-defense. Don't really see how that's important, though." He made a good job at downplaying what just happened. And he was being very childish about evading her question.

"Just say you don't want to talk about it. Would you then answer, why you stood up to those thugs?" Ann switched the subject.

"I've been dancing around that, haven't I? Anyway, I distinctly remember _you_ being the first to call them out. I just helped you help James. And we did help more than just him. Those idiots won't be out on the streets, at the very least for a few days. Time they won't have to cause any more trouble or hurt any more people." Ben offered with one of his broad smiles.

"You really do try to help everyone, don't you?" Ann pointed out more than she asked.

Her idealistic friend shrugged and went on. "Sometimes it's big stuff like this. Things that'll encourage you to do even more. Most of the time it isn't. It's little things that won't get noticed or ideas that turn out to be dead ends."

"But you'd follow those ideas regardless?" Ann asked firmly, eyes glued onto his as if standing in front of a witness in court.

"Is that how you sound when you examine someone in front of a judge and jury? Talk about intense! To your question: Naturally, otherwise you'd never know where it leads." Ben's good-natured teasing aside, the answer made it sound so simple, but then he wasn't talking about following leads on criminal activities. Just as he looked like he might add something, the doctor in the ambulance signaled that they were ready to go. "Looks like we have to cut this short. Ann, I'm sorry for being… odd after this mess. I'll make it up to you."

"Don't worry about it and get inside. There'll be other days." She said smiling.

They said their farewells and soon Ann was alone. With a sigh she sat down on a nearby park bench and watched the last curious onlooker walk away. She was glad about the peace and quiet, because without something to occupy her mind, she realized how odd it was for her to be so aggressive. Never before had she just blown up in front of others, even criminals, let alone actually hurt them. Years of court experience had made her pretty much immune to outbursts, regardless of how cruel, boorish or creepy the human being in front of her had behaved.

In fact, even before that she had rarely acted so angry. Oh, she had felt anger and downright fury often enough, Ann wasn't a robot after all. But she had never acted _violently_ … except when she wore the suit. With the suit on, however, there was no anger in her actions, not really, she just put criminals down. If she had to associate any feeling with it, it would be the supreme satisfaction of a job done and done well. Well maybe a little anger that people out there hurt others, which was only right.

With that realization, Ann was coming back to the actual world. Nobody was around and she was in no mood to stroll through Central Park alone. Despite that, she very much enjoyed her walk around the park and thought about what she should do next. Getting into Manhattan's traffic was far less enjoyable. She tried to get a cab back to her apartment, but after a few failed attempts the young woman gave up. It wasn't frustration, though she really wasn't in the mood for it either. It was uncertainty.

What did she want to do? Where did she want to go?

Of course, getting home was her first reaction, but did she really want to go there? After her last exchange with Ben, she actually felt like checking on the warehouses right then and there. Maybe it was nothing or maybe she had stumbled across just the connection that robber gang described her.

And there was little reason to go home first. She did have the suit with her. The only problem was, that she still had no idea how or why the suit changed into her current ensemble, let alone how to reverse it. So maybe she should go home and try to figure out what's going on? The sooner she was back in black the better.

Deciding that this was the best course of action, she raised her hand again. It was through chance that she noticed how the edges of her denim jacket seemed to fray. As she looked closer, it seemed like the edge she seemed to dissolve into something oily and black. When the strange gunk was starting to spread to her wrist she finally understood what was happening.

Ann ducked into an alley and behind a dumpster. Frantically she checked her outfit, but couldn't find another hint of her suit changing form. Slowly it changed back. Maybe the same feature that allowed it to change into a fitting outfit allowed it to notice, that what she truly wanted was to be in her costume again. It was quite peculiar how sensitive it sometimes seemed to be to her moods and yet how reliable it usually was. She looked around and couldn't see anyone who might in turn see her. The pedestrians outside the valley weren't so much as glancing in her direction. If only the suit would change _now_.

And just like that it flowed around her, and in a speed it had never displayed before. Her clothing dissolved into that pleasant and cool go, settled on every square inch of her body and quickly reformed into her costume.

"Well, I guess that finally settles it."

The sun was setting as Ann, in her vigilante guise, was watching the third building on her list from a shady corner. It was remarkable that in a world with all kinds of strange individuals most people, including Ann, still didn't look up. But that allowed her to observe the activities of each particular warehouse without any hurry or disturbance. And while tedious, it definitely served its purpose, because after watching for less than an hour, the black-clad woman was certain that there was something fishy going on in this location.

How could she tell? Well, she had spent the complete afternoon and part of the evening observing two other warehouses. And it had taken her those hours to make sure that these were reasonably legit, if very young business ventures.

And this one was simply wrong.

Not all wrong, no. But different enough to stand out. The inventory of the trucks wasn't really checked, most of the time the ones in charge weren't signing anything and the people were quite awkward with the equipment. There were also quite a few guns present. Most workers were carrying them concealed, as far as Ann could tell, and it would take a truly attentive passerby to notice that quickly. She also caught glimpses of pistols inside the warehouse whenever cargo was brought inside. That was a bit sloppier than the personal armament, but again unlikely to attract attention.

But that wasn't what was really odd. Namely the fact that actual _money_ was changing hands as often as not. What professional enterprise in this day and age paid in such amounts of cash? As far as the young lawyer knew, so much money was rarely used for anything but money laundering business or high-up drug trafficking, which was nothing but the step before the actual laundering anyway.

Now, all that was not enough evidence that something criminal was going on, but it was quite enough for Ann to dig deeper, and to do that she had to get inside. She had already made out the easiest and least conspicuous way in, namely through a window in the top floor. It would be similar to how she had entered Cremonesi's manor. There was, however, a problem: Noise.

The manor was very sizeable and full of furniture, which had deadened the noise her entry had made and given her plenty of places with nobody looking. Cremonesi had probably had a burglar alarm, but Ann had gambled that he belonged to those who mostly deactivate it while at home, which had turned out to be true. Her break-in had probably been discovered already, but that didn't matter to her, because a damaged window would give them no clue as to who did the breaking-and-entering. Her sealed suit should take care of fingerprints or any other regular traces. Although she acknowledged that it was a reckless thing to do.

This warehouse was pretty much the opposite: A cavernous room, devoid of most any furniture, causing whatever sound she made to echo for everyone to hear. The fact that it most likely had a functioning alarm didn't make things easier in the least. But that wasn't going to deter her. Even if an alarm goes off and police arrives – a worst case scenario – Ann might still find enough clues. Certainly more than sitting around and hoping for the best would yield her.

And didn't the saying go 'better to ask for forgiveness than permission' anyway?

With her mind made up, the still rather inexperienced vigilante waited, her muscles tense both from barely moving for nearly an hour and from her increased attention on her surroundings. Logically, she knew that the chance that she would be discovered while she jumped on top of the warehouse was pretty much nil. That, however, didn't calm her down. Ann stared at the workers idly standing around after unloading barely yet another truck and then launched herself across the street and onto the warehouse.

Time was of the essence now. If she wanted to have even a small chance to enter the building largely unseen, if not unnoticed due to the likelihood of an alarm going off, she'd have to enter swiftly while most workers were busy outside. For that she planned to enter through one of the windows not in view of most personnel outside. She climbed across the wall, until she was on the partly ajar window and waited. Her climbing had really improved, but she still felt awkward, somehow feeling that she wasn't doing it completely right.

Ann then waited for the warehouse's main shutter gate to be opened. It was noisy, reliably opened after a truck arrived and would hopefully give her an opportunity to enter. She strained her ears and pushed the window inwards the moment she heard the shutters.

It was like the frame was made of moldy wood as it broke under her grip. She rarely used her new strength for much but apprehending criminals and was once again dazzled that she didn't need to push herself in the least. But she had no time for idle introspection and admiration of her suit. She slipped inside and rammed the window, hanging only on one hinge, back into its frame. It couldn't be opened or leaned anymore, but with a bit of force she was able to seal it shut. Once done she made for the closest dark corner and awaited the bedlam, her heart beating faster and louder than it had since her discovery of the suit.

There was little here, or anywhere really, capable of endangering her physical safety anymore she reckoned, so she found herself filled with a new confidence to match her new abilities. And yet she was worried, worried of losing yet another trail to the seedy underbelly of Manhattan. Unlike her break-in in Cremonesi's manor, this wasn't a spur-of-the-moment decision and it came at the end of a most frustrating chain of events.

But no alarm rang, just like it hadn't rung in the manor. Only a short exchange between two men near her.

"Hey, you heard that sound?" the first one asked.

"Yep, recon the shutters are gonna fall apart soon," the other answered calmly.

"True that, and three guesses who's gonna be blamed for that. And the first two don't count… This place is a dump," the first one started to rant.

"Part of why the boss wanted it. 'Inconspicuous' he called it." Both men snorted.

Ann almost laughed out loud and she couldn't stop her chest shaking from silent amusement. Here she was fretting that an alarm would go off or that someone might hear her at the very least, and these guys barely cared about strange noises. The entire hall was so noisy that it was surprising – and a testament to their actual attention – that these two had heard anything. Forklifts were making a racket, workers were shouting themselves hoarse and the general sound of a busy workplace was taking care of the rest.

Once she had largely calmed down, Ann crawled up and out of her hiding place, leaving the dead end she hid in behind. The crates inside were piled up high enough that she could maneuver herself up the wall until she reached one of the shut off lights at the ceiling. Or maybe it was broken, she didn't know and largely didn't care because she only wanted to take a proper appraisal of the situation. What better place than a dark spot on the ceiling?

There was more than a dozen 'workers', though she could only catch one with holstered gun. Not that there was a shortage of guns in this place. Although, that could also be because they actually handled gun-shipments. They weren't exactly lying around or strategically placed. Could it be that Ann had simply found a small place of transshipment? Just because the two workers said something that usually implied illicit activity, didn't mean that there actually was illicit activity.

A bit shaken, she continued her observation. Ann could also make out five different rooms connected to the main hall. None of them could be particularly big, the central storage room accounted for most of the space. Two were obviously lavatories. Another one seemed to be some sort of closet for odds and ends. That left two that Ann couldn't easily guess.

There was no point in pondering what was behind them. It could be anything from a lunchroom, to an office, to an entrance, to secret underground lair. The lawyer in her involuntarily shook her head as she remembered hearing about one particular Maggia outfit having secret hideouts below nearly every single place they had been using. So Ann decided to just get the jump on one of the guys going into the closet. It didn't look very roomy, but it was probably a better place to interrogate someone than the toilet.

That decision made, the vigilante made her way back between the crates and stealthily approached the door. And it almost went just like she imagined: Down from the ceiling, skipping over a corridor between two stacks of crates and then dug behind another two crates. The operative word here, however, was 'almost'. Just as Ann jumped from one stack of crates to the other, she moved in front of a light and her shadow got noticed.

"What the 'ell was that?" he swore.

It went unnoticed in the general noise, but Ann could hear and pressed herself into her chosen hiding place. Luckily he didn't seem to want to cause a ruckus and just went in her direction to check what was going. He came closer and stopped every few feet. She couldn't see what was going on but he was obviously not half-assing his checkup.

"With my luck, this'll be some bloody feral dog or somethin'," the man mumbled to himself. "The door's closed, but better check it than have it jump out at some daft wanker."

Ann risked a glance and saw him open the closet and enter. Lady Luck herself was there for her this day!

Not waiting for a better chance, she passed the crates and willed her rope-like extension into her hand. The suit usually produced it for swinging between skyscrapers, but she had by now found out how to use it to tie people up. Not a great leap of thought, that, with its tip having enough barbs to secure her to buildings.

A quick shove and the man went stumbling into the closet, allowing Ann to follow and close the door behind them. He landed painfully in a couple of buckets and mops. Whether it was surprise or the landing driving the air out of his lungs, he didn't scream immediately and there wouldn't be another opportunity for him. She got one hand over his mouth and kept it there. A normal person would muffle the sound coming out, but with her strength she easily kept his entire _head_ from moving. He tried in vain to get the hand away, not that it moved her fingers in the least. He also kicked out for good measure, but lying on his stomach that didn't do much either.

With practiced ease she hooked the rope into his jacket and secured first one hand than the other against his torso. Doing so while keeping him silent wasn't exactly graceful, but it worked, again thanks to her enhanced body. The legs were also in the way, but she simply sat on them and secured them with her own.

"I will now take my hand off, and if you so much as bleep… well use your imagination. I can do much more than just keep you from talking. Got it?" Ann growled, her voice comfortably distorted by the suit. She wasn't exactly sure she would do anything except knock him out, but hopefully he wouldn't call her bluff.

The man tried to nod but her grip turned it into a series of painful looking twitches. With both hands free, she now went back to secure her victim head to toe. Ann idly wondered how her suit kept a stable supply of the rope, but chalked it up to yet more weird tech she would probably never understand.

"Now, I think it's fairly obvious, but you aren't a legit bunch here, are you?" she asked nonchalantly.

"You got the wrong ones! We are just Warehouse Workers here!" he hissed as he tried to keep his voice low.

"Please, don't lie to me. I don't like being lied to, you see." This sentence was accompanied by her driving one finger through one of the wooden shelves like it was mud right in front of her 'friends' eyes.

"What?... I dunno… what's going on! We're… we're with Silvio Abate," he stammered. The name didn't ring any bells in her head. "You know… the… the…"

But before he could go on, the door opened again. Ann froze for a second, but then turned around with incredible speed round.

"Very funny, Lenny!" the man opening the door said.

He wasn't looking at Ann; in fact, he was looking to his left. She had enough time to pull him inside and knock him out. That would buy her a few precious seconds. Instead, she just sat for a few moments, wasting precious time.

Ann's enhanced muscles tensed, but as the seconds wasted away, her chance to pull the man inside vanished. Panic started to mount and her right arm started rising seemingly on some deeper instinct. Ann got it up and pointed at him; before the man could possible realize what he was seeing. For a second she felt relieved. Already, the young woman could feel how the rope was only an eye blink away from darting out of back of her hands.

That's when she realized that the tip of her suit's rope would injure the man gravely. With an exertion of pure will she stopped the rope before it even left her hand. Ann didn't know what had come over her. She had hurt criminals before, even quite seriously, but she had always been deliberate and, dare she say, careful about it. That, however, left her with the problem in front of her unsolved. The head of the man started turning in what could only be described as slow motion. His eyes widened and Ann could witness how his mouth opened and closed again, as it only shouted one singular and damning word.

"CAPES!"

Anger rose inside her and Ann cursed herself for her naïve idealism. If these people here got away – or worse managed to get rid of whatever evidence was present – she would lose this trail. Even so, there was no regret about not skewering that guy. Her misgivings were focused elsewhere. Looking down at her outstretched arm, she bitterly marveled how it would be to have something like Spider-Man's webbing; something with more utility and range that she could use without reservations.

"WE GOT CAPES!" Once again the shout escaped the man's throat.

Just as she was starting to scold herself once again, this time for complaining about having not enough super-powers, a black goo-like substance, quite similar to said webbings, sprayed forth from the back of her hands. It clung to the worker and within mere moments had his movement restricted to pointless struggles. He fell over to the side and through happenstance or design had his mouth glued shut, too.

Without worrying too much about yet another new ability – really, that suit just won't stop surprising her anyway – she turned to her first captive and glued him to the ground. That couldn't have been comfortable, but she had bigger things to worry about.

With two strides she was out of the closet and jumped onto the stack of crates in front of her. The alert, however, had not gone unnoticed and she could hear gunfire erupt. She was too fast to get hit and once she had landed, took a moment to get her bearings.

Most of the workers picked up the guns, though not all of them seemed to be loaded, but some of the men were already had stacks of binders in their hands and were running for the exit. She didn't need her experience as a lawyer to tell her how important paper trails could be.

Ann decided to ignore the gunmen and focus on those with the juicy secrets. She jumped from crate to crate before hitting the ground and making a run for the door that led to the room the 'paper-pushers' were coming from. The gunfire increased and she could feel three impacts on her body – one each in her right shoulder, sides and leg. None of them were causing her pain, but they did unbalance her and she just knew that the pain would be waiting for her when she got out of her suit.

Swatting one of the idiots in her way aside like an annoying fly, – and hearing him land with in a resounding crash – she raised her arm again and a cross between her old rope and the new goo-spray shot out and stuck to the closest paper-carrier's back. She pulled at the string connecting them and the scrawny guy was lifted off his feet and landed painfully on the floor. She slipped behind some crates for cover, hoping that whatever was inside would stop the bullets. Next she resumed pulling her new victim across the floor to her, only to stop once she noticed that he had dropped the binders.

A female worker kneeled down to pick up and collect the dropped paperwork. Another gunman next to her shouted "Quickly! Throw them back inside! Boss says to follow him!"

It puzzled Ann, but she decided that made it only easier. She let go of the string in her hand and sprinted for the room, allowing the workers to escape. They were small fries and she had two of them secured already. And indeed, as she got closer to the room the gunfire died down so her decision was rewarded, after some fashion. Ann kicked the door open and was already in the process of diving into it when she recoiled from the sudden heat.

The entire office was on fire!

She felt an utter revulsion to enter the room. Not everything in there was lost, but something inside her just didn't want to go there. Already she was cursing herself for her hesitation and tried forcing herself to step inside, but her legs were barely inching forward. Once she finally got herself inside, shaking from the waist down and feeling short of breath, something suddenly exploded and sent the black clad woman stagger back until she hit one of the worktables in the hall. Luckily, the explosion wasn't strong or close enough to hurt her, but it did disorient her.

Trying to get her bearing she almost didn't notice another impending impact, this time on her left side, the noise of a machine getting louder and louder. Ann shook her head and finally saw straight. She turned towards that noise, only to see a forklift truck driving straight at her. In the last moment she managed to jump up a little, saving her from getting caught under the vehicle. That still meant that the machine caught her head on and continued to drive and full speed into another pile of crates. Ann could hear and feel the wood splintering and whatever was inside breaking under the pressure as the forklift crashed.

It took Ann a few minutes to push and shove her way out of the wreckage. She could feel water raining down on her and register some pain. It wasn't much, but that she felt any pain at all was a bad sign. Her body would probably get its dues later. She glimpsed at the driver and noted that he was in pretty bad shape and probably needed medical attention as the water soaked into his clothes. And after trying to commit vehicular homicide with her as the victim, Ann wasn't in a hurry to get him that attention.

The fire inside the room had spread and caused the sprinklers to activate, which would account for the water running down her body. So much for finding evidence there. She ran out and looked for stragglers, but there wasn't even a car left behind. Not all was lost however, because she was pretty sure that her two pseudo-webbing-victims were likely to be left behind. So Ann made her way back to the closet.

The guy in front of it was thoroughly drenched and had tried and given up crawling away. She picked him up like a particularly light sack and held him in front of her.

"Who is running this show?" she asked.

"If ya wanted to know that, ya just had ta ask, bitch," the worker mouthed off.

He clearly wasn't realizing that Ann wasn't in the mood for games. She simply dropped him and picked him up again.

"Well, consider this me asking you," she said.

"That hurt, damnit! Fine, not like it's a secret. We are working for some dude called Silvio Abate."

"That name doesn't ring a bell. Who is your contact further up?" she pushed further.

"Fucked if ah know. It's not like we get told every little secret, ya know?" he replied with a broad grin.

It was obvious that he expected to just be handed to the cops and close to physically unharmed at that. Ann felt a great desire to just smash his stupid grinning face against the wall, but she pushed the feeling down.

"Then what _were_ you told?"

"Just the usual: Where to go, what to do and what not do. Like blabbing to dumb boy scouts. Or would that be girl scouts for you? Do you also sell cookies?" he continued his cocky demeanor.

Ann didn't care if it was false bravado or not. It annoyed her and she was done with this. She placed him against the wall, head down, and glued him there. Ignoring his continued shouts, she went into the closet and tried those same questions with her first captive. Sadly, that worker didn't know much more, except that Abate was working directly for one higher up and that they were supposed to meet with him if anything went wrong. She left him comfortably sitting and not in some horrible or compromising position. That guy hadn't been a dick.

Just as she wanted to leave the warehouse and give the entire disaster up as a bad job, she heard a moan from a pile to her right. She turned and saw someone lying in a pile of broken wood. Of course, it was the guy she had swatted aside. She really needed to be more careful with her strength. Well, it worked for the best.

Once again she picked someone up from the ground, but was surprised to hear him speak first.

"Spider-Man?" he groaned.

For some reason this irritated Ann, but that was probably because the first guy she interrogated had riled her up.

"Not quite. Do you know who is in charge of this place?" she answered.

"Abate is the boss here."

"And who is his boss? If you help me I'll even call the ambulance," Ann offered, already planning to do so, but that wasn't something he needed to know.

"Dunno. Boss didn't… never say. Always kept mum."

"Really never? No nickname or something?" she was growing hopeful because the guy was too disoriented to really think his answers through.

"Wait, I think he said something once," the man trailed off and it seemed like he slipped into unconsciousness. Ann shook him lightly and finally a name escaped him. "Salvatore."

Immediately Ann dropped him and by the time he landed in the puddle of water under them, she had already forgotten all about calling the ambulance. She was already on the move. That name couldn't have been a coincidence. She knew that Cremonesi had a lot of business in Manhattan and the surrounding parts of New York.

As she was thinking this she already had made her way out and was climbing to the rooftop. There was no time to lose. Maybe nothing would be there. Or maybe she would find the cars, the workers and papers of this place there. This might well be her lucky break. With renewed purpose – and more than a bit pent up anger from being run over – Ann Weying made her way to the Cremonesi's mansion.


End file.
